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 "Thank you," said Wade gravely.

When the boy had gone he pursed his lips for a whistle that ended in a groan.

"Of all the miserable luck!" he muttered. "Why in Heaven's name does she have to be a millionairess?" He smiled ruefully at his pipe. "Dave, I guess your gold water pitcher is quite safe!"

He returned presently to his seat in the car, the savor rather gone out of the adventure, and had his luncheon. As he ate he could just see the top of the girl's head above the backs of the seats down the car. Perhaps it was this scant view of her, or perhaps it was the luncheon, at all events he returned to the smoking room afterwards for his cigar in a more cheerful frame of mind.

"After all," he reflected, "she's just a woman, millions or no millions. And even if I can't play polo, I'm as good a man as Kingdon Smith. Besides, I'm here and he isn't!"

The train slowed down and for a minute