I was
driving up this way and Tolman asked me to bring you the money. Here
it is. You'd better count it to see if it's right." Gillian laid the
money beside her hand on the desk.
Miss Hayden turned white. "Oh!" she said, and again "Oh!"
Gillian half turned and looked out the window.
"I suppose, of course," he said, in a low voice, "that you know I
love you."
"I am sorry," said Miss Hayden, taking up her money.
"There is no use?" asked Gillian, almost light-heartedly.
"I am sorry," she said again.
"May I write a note?" asked Gillian, with a smile, He seated himself
at the big library table. She supplied him with paper and pen, and
then went back to her secretaire.
Gillian made out his account of his expenditure of the thousand
dollars in these words:
"Paid by the black sheep, Robert Gillian, $1,000 on account of the
eternal happiness, owed by Heaven to the best and dearest woman on
earth."
Gillian slipped his writing into an envelope, bowed and went his way.
His cab stopped again at the offices of Tolman & Sharp.
"I have expended the thousand dollars," he said cheerily, to Tolman
of the gold glasses, "and I have come to render account of it, as I
agreed. There is quite a feeling of summer in the air--do you not
think so, Mr. Tolman?" He tossed a white envelope on the lawyer's
table. "You will find there a memorandum, sir, of the _modus
operandi_ of the vanishing of the dollars."
Without touching the envelope, Mr.
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