the most inspiring drum beat to which he had ever listened. It made him somehow eager to be up and out and doing.
In his present mood there was one resemblance to that which came over him on the day when the committee from the banks had insisted that he should acquire the stock-control and the presidency of Judson-Morris. That thing was over when his mind had accepted the fact; the rest was mere detail. So now his wooing seemed over. Hehad won Fay Gilman. He had added her unto his life. All that remained to complete the addition were forms and ceremonies. Details. They belonged to her. He would leave them to her, for his own mind was rushing on—turning back rather from this romantic excursion.
The lovers rode side by side to the porte cochère of the new home Stephen Gilman had built, and together they broke to his widow, with mutual blushes and mutual assistance, the news of their engagement.
Mrs. Gilman heard them gravely and sensibly, betrayed no surprise, and offered no objections.
"I think it's a good match," she conceded frankly—"if Fay had to marry! I think it is one her father would approve of—knowing what Mr. Judson has come to."
"What he will come to," corrected Fay with proud loyalty. "George is hardly started yet."
