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190 the futility of demanding financial redress from a man who is fiat broke. I assure you Lord Harrowby hasn't a shilling."

"I don't believe it. He can get money somehow. He always could. The courts can force him to. I shall tell my lawyer to go ahead with the suit."

"If you would only delay—a, week—"

"Impossible." Miss Rose spoke with haughty languor. "I begin rehearsals in New York in a week. No, I shall start suit to-day. You may tell Lord Harrowby so."

Poor Jephson! Minot had a mental picture of the little bald man writing at that very moment a terribly large check for the Dowager Duchess of Tremayne—paying for the rain that had fallen in torrents. He must at least hold this woman off until Jephson answered his cable.

"Miss Rose," he pleaded, "grant us one favor. Do not make public your suit against Harrowby until I have seen you again—say, at four o'clock this afternoon."

Coldly she shook her head.

"But you have already waited five years.