scapes with the spontaneous pleasure with which Rhoda was studying these drawings. No one had ever read any words of his with the whimsical delight with which Rhoda scanned his persuasive arguments.
Her enthusiasm became electric. It set her to pacing the room and gesturing in a manner that would have given Mamie Mangum pointers for a dozen roles.
"It's brimming over with ideas," she cried. "However did you—"
She leaned forward over the breakfast tray and hugged him.
"It's worth thousands of dollars to us," she exclaimed with a new gust of amazement.
"I'll take it in cash," he said laconically, as the dark shadow of Paris stole into the cheerful room.
"By Jove and you'll get it," she promised.
He did get it, shortly after the New Year, and it gave him courage to re-enter his bank. He had got into the way of journeying into Boston with Rhoda and had looked up a few old acquaintances. Most of his classmates he soon rejected as hopeless marriers. Scarcely one but had at least one foot in the matrimonial grave. Eric Peperell was selling stocks and bonds and was by way of being engaged to a girl named Lila Squarebriggs.
"I should think she'd marry anybody to change that name," Grover commented. "Why victimize a good fellow like Eric!"
"Lila's a nice girl," Rhoda defended.
