“You may think differently about your millions in the morning. We’ll wait till then. Good night, and double congratulations, Melody!” he said.
“Yes, we’d quite forgotten how good I was in the play. I’ll send you those papers about mother to-morrow morning, and you see that the scalawags don’t make good! I can’t be bothered with law suits and things until after the season closes. I’m making my great adventure now, the same as you did once! I don’t want to be disturbed until I have carried it through.”
“I’ll see that you are not disturbed. Before I go, please tell me why you didn’t let me know the truth when you found that picture in my room?”
“I had my idea,” Melody replied vaguely, her eyes shining into his. “I shouldn’t have given it away now—not until I had really made good—if it hadn’t been for that woman winning the law suit. When I discovered what the trouble was, I had to tell, of course.”
“I almost wish you hadn’t!” Brainard exclaimed, starting for the door.
“Why?”
And he was gone, leaving Melody with a thoughtful smile on her pretty face.
“I believe,” she remarked after a time, as in rapid, unstarlike haste she divested herself of her clothes, “that I shall find a way of compelling him to keep the money—somehow or other!”