If I were you, Arthur"-- she was sitting up so that she could look at him and make her words more impressive--"I'd dismiss strike and freight rates and the mill, and I'd put my whole mind on Whitney.

There's a weak spot somewhere in his armor.

There always is in a scoundrel's." Arthur reflected.

Presently he drew her head down against his; it seemed to her that she could feel his brain at work, and soon she knew from the change in the clasp of his arms about her that that keen, quick mind of his was serving him well.

"What a joy it is to a woman," she thought, "to know that she can trust the man she loves--trust him absolutely, always, and in every way." And she fell asleep after awhile, lulled by the rhythmic beat of his pulse, so steady, so strong, giving her such a restful sense of security.