together to make each other's better acquaintance in the romantic
dimness of the studio.

* * * * *

Percy proceeded down-town, pondering. His first impulse, I regret to
say, was to send Ruth's father an anonymous letter. This plan he
abandoned from motives of fear rather than of self-respect. Anonymous
letters are too frequently traced to their writers, and the prospect of
facing Kirk in such an event did not appeal to him.

As he could think of no other way of effecting his object, he had begun
to taste the bitterness of futile effort, when fortune, always his
friend, put him in a position to do what he wanted in the easiest
possible way with the minimum of unpleasantness.

Bailey Bannister, that strong, keen Napoleon of finance, was not above
a little relaxation of an evening when his father happened to be out of
town. That giant mind, weary with the strain of business, needed
refreshment.

And so, at eleven thirty that night, his father being in Albany, and
not expected home till next day, Bailey might have been observed,
beautifully arrayed and discreetly jovial, partaking of lobster at one
of those Broadway palaces where this fish is in brisk demand. He was in
company with his rabbit-faced friend, Clarence Grayling, and two
members of the chorus of a neighbouring musical comedy.

One of the two, with whom Clarence was conversing in a lively manner
that showed his heart had not been irreparably broken as the result of