“I—­I think I was mad, friends and fellow-workers,” he exclaimed, huskily.  “I believe I was too precipitate in this affair.

“It is so long since I was young I—­I had forgotten that it is the custom of men now, as in the years long since gone by, to speak to a maiden of love before he said anything of marriage.

“It did not occur to me that the great millionaire wanted my little girl for his wife, as he now says.

“Hear me, friends, one and all.  I most heartily regret causing this disturbance and I move that we return to our places, as our employer suggests.”

There was a murmur of assent among the throng; then, all in a body, they moved forward, entering the building again; and in less than five minutes’ time matters were moving on quite as smoothly once more as though no sudden upheaval had ever occurred in the great dry goods establishment.

Mr. Conway, however, was too upset to attend further to his duties that afternoon, and accepted the manager’s suggestion that he should go to his home, Margery accompanying him.

Meanwhile Kendale had thrown himself down into the nearest chair, breathing hard, feeling like a general who had achieved a most wonderful victory.

“A few soft, silvery words saved me this time,” he muttered, “but it throws the girl on my hands.  Well, I suppose I will have to propose marriage to her now—­every one expects it; there would be a terrible rumpus kicked up if I did not.  Well, let there be an engagement between us; that doesn’t mean that there will be a marriage, by any means.  The engagement can drag along three or four years, and then we can break off.  By that time I shall be ready to marry the heiress of the Fairfax millions.  Ah, how much easier it is to scheme for a fortune than to toil for one, as most poor mortals do.”

The entrance of the manager with the bill for the hundred and twenty-five thousand put an end to his musings and plans for the present.  Mr. Wright emerged from the office ten minutes later with a very troubled expression on his face.  It was dearly patent to him that Mr. Lester Armstrong did not care how badly the business was crippled, so long as he secured the yacht and the fast horses.

From that first day, so full of awkward and almost fatal mistakes, Kendale spent as little time as was absolutely necessary in the establishment of Marsh & Company, as it was still called, preferring to let all of the business cares fall upon the manager’s already weighted shoulders.

In less than a week it was noised about social circles that the young man who had so suddenly dropped into millions of money was something of a sport—­a yachtsman whose magnificent yachting parties were the wonder of the metropolis; a horseman whose racing stables were second to none and were worth a handsome fortune; and it was hinted that he seemed no stranger at cards and gambled sums of gold that would have purchased a king’s ransom at a single game—­until those who looked on in speechless wonder were sure he must have exhaustless wealth.  Every one prophesied, however, that this reckless extravagance must have an ending some time.  Meanwhile society held out its arms to the young millionaire, welcoming him with its sweetest smiles.