"The building is mine, Kitty. That makes it possible. An uncle who knew I hated money and the responsibilities that go with it, died and left it to me."
"Why, Cutty, you must be rich!"
"I'm sorry. What can I do? I can't give it away."
"But you don't have to work!"
"Oh, yes, I do. I'm that kind. I'd die of a broken heart if I had to sit still. It's the game."
"Did mother know?"
"Yes."
With the toe of a snug little bronze boot Kitty drew an outline round a pattern in the rug.
"Love is a funny thing," was her comment.
"It sure is, old-timer. But what put the thought into your head?"
"I was thinking how very much mumsy must have been in love with father."
"But she never knew that I loved her, Batty."
"What's that got to do with it? If she had wanted money you wouldn't have had the least chance in the world."
"Probably not! But what would you have done in your mother's place?"
"Snapped you up like that!" Kitty flashed back.
"You cheerful little—little"
"Liar. Say it!" Kitty laughed. "But am I a cheerful little liar? I don't know. It would be an
