Andrew Barrett wondered with all his soul what the chief was reading in big print in the future.
Andrew Barrett waited. Presently H. R. frowned. Then he smiled slightly.
Barrett stared fascinatedly. Ah, the lure of mystery! If more men appreciated it, polygamy would be inevitable—and liberal divorce laws.
H. R. looked up.
"Oh, are you here?" he smiled paternally, forgivingly.
Barrett beamed.
"My boy, I wish you'd run over to Max Onthemaker's or get him on the telephone. The newspapers are going to publish it."
"Yes, sir, I will. Er—what are they—what are you going to spring on an enraptured metropolis?
"My impending marriage to Grace Goodchild, only daughter of Goodchild, president of the Ketcham National Bank. See that it is well handled. And, Barrett?"
"Yes, sir?"