“Well—­Miss Blaine?” he smiled.

“Well—­Mr. Stafford?”

“Here we are all alone,” he said, looking at her admiringly.

There was a strange look in his eyes, a longing, appealing look, as if he had something on his mind to which he did not dare give expression.  For a moment the girl regretted that she had not followed her sister.  It was embarrassing under the peculiar circumstances to be alone there with him.  There was a long pause, during which neither spoke.  At last Virginia said: 

“Why didn’t you let me see the pictures too?  You know that I’m interested in books and pictures.”

She made a movement, as if about to follow the others, but instantly he put out his hand to detain her.

“Not yet, please.  I have so many things I want to talk to you about.”

In spite of herself, Virginia smiled at his boyish earnestness of manner.

“What, for instance?”

“Among them is—­myself.”

“I know a great deal about you already,” she said.  “The newspapers and magazines have been full of the history of the man who, starting with nothing, has become a power in the railroad and financial world.  It only needed one thing to make it fit for the model young man’s story-book—­it neglected to say—­’our hero neither drinks nor smokes.’”

“It couldn’t,” he laughed.  “I do both.”

“Another public idol shattered!” she exclaimed merrily.

He joined in the fun with her, in his frank, boyish way.

“Behave, now!” he laughed.

Virginia grew more serious.  Thoughtfully she continued: 

“In the last interview which the newspapers had with you—­”

“Probably faked—­” he interrupted.

“You neglected to say, ’making my first thousand dollars was the hardest task of all.’  All successful men do that; why not you?”

He looked at her for a moment in an amused kind of way.  Then carelessly he answered: 

“Making the first thousand was about the easiest for me.  I got hold of some information about a certain stock, borrowed a hundred from a friend, put it up as margin in a bucket shop, and by pressing my luck, made and got my first thousand without any trouble whatever.”

Virginia looked straight at him, admiration as much for his personality as for his achievements showing plainly in the expression of her large, black eyes.  Slowly she said: 

“And it was that, I suppose, which started you on the way to the City of Big Things.  I like that phrase—­The City of Big Things.’”

He nodded as he answered:  “It’s a great city—­the only one worth living in.”

“And you are one of the most prominent inhabitants.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” he laughed in an embarrassed sort of way.  “Still, every one in the city knows I’m living there.”

The girl made no reply, but absent-mindedly looked away in the direction of the library, where Fanny and her intended were heard chattering.  For a few moments she sat still, as if engrossed in thought.  Then suddenly she turned toward him.  Impulsively she said: