The boy rose from the arm of the great chair on which he had been resting and advanced to the little desk behind which Alice sat.  With his hands on the end, he leaned forward until his face was near hers, looking straight into her eyes.

“Perhaps I don’t need anything else,” he said in a low, firm tone, “but it wouldn’t be honest not to tell you that the same something which I had in mind before I started in business has been there ever since.  The game is enough in itself, of course, if that’s all it can be.  But don’t you see what a different proposition it is when a fellow sees a dear girl’s face ahead of him in the distance just beyond each obstacle which he has to meet?  Don’t you know how much better you always play a game when there’s something up on it?”

Alice was plainly disappointed.  “But you are playing for high stakes always, Allen; there’s success for the winner and failure for the loser.”

“With a big side wager in the dear girl’s face just ahead,” he added.  “I’ve got to keep that hope in my heart, Alice, to help me to make good quickly; even though you tell me not to, I can’t help it.  Why, I have done it so long that even if I knew this minute you were going to marry that Covington person, I believe I’d keep right on—­hoping to get a chance to be your second husband.”

This was too much for the girl’s equilibrium, and she laughed in spite of herself.  She failed to sense the personal side of Allen’s declaration.  He was developing, and this to her was only a phase.

“You are simply impossible,” she replied; “but we might as well understand each other right now.  I have no idea of marrying any one.  Perhaps some day I shall change my mind if the man comes along who is enough stronger than I am to sweep away all the objections.”

“Does Mr. Covington seem likely to be that man?” Allen asked, pertinently.

“I have no more idea of marrying him than he has of marrying me,” Alice stated, flatly.  “I admire him extravagantly.  He is a self-made man—­”

“The good Lord must be pleased to be relieved of that responsibility,” Allen interrupted, ill-naturedly.

“You mustn’t be so prejudiced against him,” she reproved him.  “He is one of the ablest business men in New York—­daddy has told me that—­yet, out of respect to my father and kindness to me, he is giving me more of his time, I know, than he can spare.  I am very grateful to him.”

“Well”—­Allen started to take his departure—­“we don’t seem to have made much progress; but, at any rate, you know where I stand.  I shan’t buy any crepe until I receive the wedding cards, and in the mean time”—­he bowed very low—­“please don’t overlook the fact that yours truly is your greatest responsibility, and one which you can’t shake off.”

Standing in the hall at the foot of the stairs, Allen discovered a figure militant awaiting his descent.  Patricia was indignant and excited.