tured, nothing gained. Maybe the banker was merely talking over the telephone. He pushed open the door and walked in.
It was not before he had closed the door behind him that he turned to face this unexpected vision: President Coburn, very red of face and angry of mien, was pounding his desk and shouting in his loudest voice. Before the angry financier stood Walter, Jr., flushed and defiant. And beside Walter stood a petite, rouged, loudly dressed and very blonde young lady, a smile upon her coarsely pretty face that resembled somewhat a sneer. Her name was "Peaches" Pendleton, of the Olympia Burlesque Wheel, and Walter Coburn, Jr., had married her the night before in Cleveland.
The new Mrs. Coburn's father-in-law was in the act of telling her and her slightly frazzled-looking husband what he thought of them. He staunched the flow of his profanity for an instant at the sight of the newcomer. Harold hesitated, swallowed hard, made a motion to leave.
"Well, what do you want?" roared his employer.
Harold could think of nothing better to do, in his confusion, than to approach the desk and state his business. Mr. and Mrs. Walter.
