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150 "Alec would do that anyway," I said.

"Of course. Nice old Al! He's as good as gold."

I couldn't bear her patronising manner. She has always treated Alec like that, just because she had money and he had nothing but goodness. I turned to her seriously.

"Miss Campbell," I asked, "how did you come to want to marry Alec?"

"You amusing chicken!" she laughed, then pinching me disgustingly on the arm, she added in a sly way, "You wait, you'll know when the right one comes."

I flushed but held my peace.

"I was only wondering," I said. "Alec has so little money, and you—I mean our business—our success is so uncertain."

"Alec is bound to succeed now," she replied in her cock-sure way. "I told Al there was no such word in my vocabulary as failure. Besides Father is going to look into the business, and Father never touched a thing that wasn't successful."

"Your father!" I gasped with the colour again in my face. Her father used to collect junk-iron. "Our business!"

"Oh, come, come. Just like Al at first. This Vars pride! Don't you see, my dear, that, independent of weddings, a man can put a little life into a dead business if he wants to?"

"My father's business isn't dead," I exclaimed, now filled with indignation.

"Oh, come, Bobbikins!"

"Don't call me that, please," I said and drew away my arm.