"And

that's what I was coming to," said the old man, less boisterously.

"That's why I asked you to come in. There's something going wrong with

you, boy. I've been noticing it for two weeks. Out with it. I guess I could lay

my hands on eleven millions within twenty-four hours, besides the real estate.

If it's your liver, there's the Rambler down in the bay, coaled, and ready to

steam down to the Bahamas in two days."

"Not

a bad guess, dad; you haven't missed it far."

"Ah,"

said Anthony, keenly; "what's her name?"

Richard

began to walk up and down the library floor. There was enough comradeship and

sympathy in this crude old father of his to draw his confidence.

"Why

don't you ask her?" demanded old Anthony. "She'll jump at you. You've

got the money and the looks, and you're a decent boy. Your hands are clean.

You've got no Eureka soap on 'em. You've been to college, but she'l...