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others. And when he's embittered, he may go farther in some ways than he would really intend to go. Yet he is so sincere about the whole subject of workingmen's rights, so eager to improve their condition, that he may be on the verge of accomplishing something splendid, something worth while—and though it grieves me very much to know that he's attacking you, Floyd, I—I can't discourage him."

"Don't try," Floyd answered. "Why, he's got one idea of how to improve our workmen's condition, and I've got another. The question will settle itself, some day—and then he and I can forget we've ever differed."

"You can forget," she said. "It is one of the splendid things about you, Floyd,—that you can forget."

"And so can you," he declared. "I believe you've forgotten now that I came to tell you something very interesting and important."

"I had," she admitted. "I've got so self-centred, worrying about Stewart. What is it, Floyd?"

"I'm engaged to be married," he said. "To a friend of yours—Marion Clark. Now what do you think of me?"

He looked down at her with a gay smile; she rose from the low chair and came towards him holding out both hands. "Oh, Floyd!"—she said, and then as he took her hands, her voice broke, her eyes grew soft with tears. "I'm so glad, so very, very glad! I've hoped you might—this long time! There's no one so fine as Marion—unless it's you!"

Smiling at him through her tears, she was the great peril to his happiness. He tried not to think of her, he tried to think of Marion as he answered,—

"You know her better than any one else does. We wanted you—and Stewart—to hear it first. Just as I was the first to hear about you and Stewart—years ago."

"Thank you, Floyd. Stewart will be so pleased.—Ah, I don't believe you know yet all that Marion is—so clear- sighted, so brave, so true!—If she were here and you were