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 the twelve or thirteen thousand dollars now on deposit in Mr. Gilman's own bank.

"Humph!" said Mr. Gilman again, when he had heard him through to this important piece of information. "You pay me a subtle compliment."

"My gas wagon's just out in front. Won't you let me run you out the avenue and back?" pleaded George earnestly. "It'll do you good to get a little fresh air. It will be in the way of business, too, for I think I can make you understand something of the fascination there is in a spin in an automobile."

"And on the basis of that fascination, you want me to loan you two hundred thousand dollars?" speculated Mr. Gilman, an amused light in his shrewd eye.

"Not on your fascination. On the general fascination, of the reality of which you may judge when you have experienced it yourself."

"Help! Help!" laughed Mr. Gilman. "But I'll go with you."

As the two men appeared in the rather exposed position reserved for the passengers on the single-seated, two-cylindered runabout of that day, the pair provided a striking contrast. Yet George, as he guided the car out Griswold Street toward Jefferson Avenue, had no sense of contrasts. He felt very much on even terms.