"Harry!" Marian cried. "I've been blind to your troubles too!"
"This was his chance. He remarked coolly that he had been making plans to take advantage of his opportunity when it came, handed me drafts which enabled me to weather the storm, and refused to accept one penny of the blood-money which I was only too ready to give him. That is the way our friend Cosden collects his pound of flesh."
"Connie did that?" Huntington demanded, gratified beyond measure but speaking lightly to cover Cosden's embarrassment. "Why, Connie,—I thought you were a business man!"
Edith made no comment but her gaze never left Cosden's face. His confusion was genuine, for to be made a hero in the midst of one's friends is more than any man can stand. Marian hastened to his rescue.
"I shall tell Mr. Cosden what I think of him when we are alone," she said gratefully. "Now let us turn from the worship of Midas to that of a coy little divinity who may yet teach Edith to speak in words of one syllable. Harry says that I am to have the last word. It shall be brief: Mr. and Mrs. Henry Thatcher announce the engagement of their only daughter to—Mr. William Montgomery Huntington."
The effect of this announcement was even more dramatic than the first.
"You sly old dog!" Cosden cried, reaching over and pummeling Huntington on the back.
"Great work!" was Philip's congratulation, but he subsided when he saw the expression on Billy's face.
It was epoch-making, as Thatcher had promised. The relief over the happy solution of the business crisis, and the surprise and joy of the announced engagement made the dinner pass from an episode into an event. Billy's lack of enthusiasm might be easily understood and as easily forgiven, but Edith's subdued attitude was less comprehensible. It was only as they left the table to go out upon the piazza that she broke her silence. She held back after Marian and Merry passed through the door and turned to Cosden.
"Did you really do that?" she demanded.