" "May I trust you?" hesitated Thames. White and Miss Ellicot laid each a hand upon his arm, one on either side. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. He began really to like Spurlock, despite the shadow of the boy's past, despite his inexplicable attitude toward this glorious girl.
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