"You don't show any ill effects from acting as trained nurse," Cosden remarked; "in fact I never saw you look so well. Glad you came in time for this farewell dinner; I'm back into the harness again to-morrow."
"I wish you could stay longer, Mr. Cosden," Marian urged.
"I'm ashamed of the length of time I have already imposed upon your hospitality," Cosden replied; "but you must hold Edith responsible. It takes her an eternity to get a little word of three letters out of her mouth."
"That isn't a commodity which requires advertising," she remarked, tossing her head.
"I'll get you yet, you little devil!" whispered Cosden.
"This dinner is epoch-making," Thatcher said seriously after they were seated, "and the epochs divide themselves into two parts. The first one I'm going to explain; then, as it is proper that my wife should have the last word, Marian will tell you the second. We have with us this evening—that's the way the toastmaster usually starts in, isn't it?—a man whom I have known for several years, whose integrity is unquestioned, but who has been considered by his business associates as one who exacted his last pound of flesh."
Cosden looked quickly at Thatcher, and reddened at the pointed glance which Edith gave him.
"A few days ago," Thatcher continued, "owing to extraordinary business conditions, that man found the one house which he would like best to control in a position where he could legitimately force it to accept his own terms. I know, because that house was mine."
"Cut it out, Thatcher," Cosden growled; "this isn't an experience meeting."
Thatcher paid no attention to him. "At this crisis, I went down on my knees, and begged him a favor to accept a little trifle of four and a half millions profit in exchange for saving my house and reputation."