he sensed the truth that she was a shrewd bargainer, he believed that those level brown eyes could conceal no crooked thought, that her fine voice would speak no untruth.
Helen and Bryant remained in the Banner office and John walked over to the Commercial House. The day seemed one of the brightest he had ever seen; the sense of inferiority that had been upon him earlier was gone, absorbed in a new sort of self-satisfaction.
Today's decision meant money; not a great deal, perhaps—but money; and honest money. Somehow, this qualification had never been of much more than casual importance but within the last twenty-four hours a change had taken place in him, as decided as a chemical reaction. He wanted money more now than he had ever wanted it before, but after last night's experience out in Thad Parker's house he was rather particular about how it should come to him!
He sat down in the dingy little office of the hotel and wrote at length to Marcia, telling her little of what had happened except that things were going well, exhausting his vocabulary in love making.
While he wrote, Helen talked gravely to Humphrey Bryant. He listened, as gravely, to the story of the visit that Sim Burns had paid her and when she finished he nodded.
"It begins to connect," he commented.
"With what?"
For a protracted interval he eyed her speculatively as a physician might look when debating the question of telling a patient the worst.
"To a movement that is on foot to build roads and more schools in the Harris Development district, that
