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 Henry, hearing only vaguely, heard enough to know he should contrive a modest smile himself and essayed to do so.

"Guess we could make a place for Mr. Harrington at our little family dinner party tonight, mother, couldn't we?" the magnate inquired over his shoulder. "You met Mr. Harrington at the club, Billie? I have been hearing some pretty fine things about Mr. Harrington this afternoon from Judge Allen, and what we have just seen makes me feel that we've been kind of behindhand in getting acquainted."

"Why, of course," intervened Billie, her lips taking on a wilful expression; "Mr. Harrington must come to the dinner and stay for my party—if he will forgive the tardiness and informality of our invitation." The expression of appeal with which the beautiful eyes lighted, under those so perfectly arched brows, made Harrington feel that he would forgive anything from them.

"I—I should be delighted, of course," beamed Henry, seeing no one but Billie.

"We dine at seven," announced Mrs. Boland, from somewhere off on the distant edge of the world.