"Yes, it's Mister," she said, managing to smile quite naturally. "You know you told me your name was 'Mister'—since you made your pile and all that—but, Mister, I'm going away."
"Going away!" exclaimed Rimrock, suddenly turning to look at her; and then he came hurriedly back.
"Say, what's the matter?" he asked uneasily, "have I done something else that is wrong?"
"Why, no," she laughed, "what a conscience you have! I'm going East for an operation—I should have gone long ago. Oh, yes, I've been thinking about it for quite a while; but now I'm going to go. You don't know how I dread it. It's very painful, and if it doesn't make me any better it's likely to make me—."
"Oh," said Rimrock thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, "well, say, when do you want to go? I'm going East myself and there ought to be one of us——"
"So soon?" enquired Mary and as Rimrock looked at her he caught a twinkle in her eyes. Not of merriment exactly, but of swift understanding and a hidden, cynical scorn.
"What d'ye mean?" he blustered. "Ain't I got a right——"
"Why, certainly," she returned, still with that subtle resentment, "I have no objections at all. Only it might make a difference to Mr. Stoddard if he found us both away."
"Aw, that's all bosh!" broke out Rimrock impatiently, "he's got his hands more than full in New York. I happen to know he's framing up a copper deal that will lay the Hackmeisters wide open. That's why I want to go back. Mrs. Hardesty says——"
"Mrs. Hardesty?"