“Yes, you!” said Dot.

“What did I say?” asked Bertie, hastily casting back his thoughts.

She looked at him with eyes that seemed to grow more contemptuously bright every instant.  “You said,” she spoke with immense deliberation, “that I loved myself best.”

“Well?” said Bertie.

“Well,” she said, and took up her basket as one on the point of departure, “it wasn’t true.  There!”

“Dot!” His hand was on the basket too.  He stopped her without touching her.  “Dot!” he said again.

Dot’s eyes began to soften, a dimple showed suddenly near the corner of her mouth.  “You shouldn’t tell lies, Bertie,” she said.

And that was the last remark she made for several seconds, unless the smothered protests that rose against Bertie’s lips could be described as such.  They were certainly not emphatic enough to make any impression, and Bertie treated them with the indifference they deserved.

Driving home, he managed to steer with one hand while he thrust the other upon his brother’s knee.

“Luke, old chap, I’ve gone dead against your wishes,” he jerked out.  “And—­for the first time in my life—­I’m not sorry.  She’ll have me.”

“I thought she would,” said Lucas.  He grasped the boy’s hand closely.  “There are times when a man—­if he is a man—­must act for himself, eh, Bertie?”

Bertie laughed a little.  “I don’t believe it was against your wishes after all.”

“Well, p’r’aps not.”  There was a very kindly smile in the sunken eyes.  “I guess you’re a little older than I thought you were, and anyway, she won’t marry you for the dollars.”

“She certainly won’t,” said Bertie warmly.  “But she’s horribly afraid of people saying so, since Nap—­”

“Ah!  Never mind Nap!”

“Well, it’s made a difference,” Bertie protested.  “We are not going to marry for three years.  And no one is to know we are engaged except you and her father.”

“She doesn’t mind me then?”

There was just a tinge of humour in the words, and Bertie looked at him sharply.

“What are you grinning at?  No, of course she doesn’t mind you.  But what’s the joke?”

“Look where you’re going, dear fellow.  It would be a real pity to break your neck at this stage.”

Bertie turned his attention to his driving and was silent for a little.

Suddenly, “I have it!” he exclaimed.  “You artful old fox!  I believe you had first word after all.  I wondered that she gave in so easily.  What did you say to her?”

“That,” said Lucas gently, “is a matter entirely between myself and one other.”

Bertie broke into his gay boyish laugh and sounded the hooter for sheer lightness of heart.

“Oh, king, live for ever—­and then some!  You’re just the finest fellow in the world!”

“Open to question, I am afraid,” said the millionaire with his quiet smile.  “And as to living for ever—­well, I guess it’s a cute idea in the main, but under present conditions it’s a notion that makes me tired.”