"Dryden. Walter Dryden is my name. Yes, that's the trouble."

"She won't have you?" hazarded the reporter, wishing to be social in
his turn.

"Exactly."

"Mrs. Harrington would not the first time I asked her."

"I have offered myself to her six separate times, and she has thus far
declined."

Harrington paused a moment. The temptation to reveal his own
astuteness, and at the same time enhance the personal flavor which the
dialogue had acquired, was not to be resisted. "May I venture to ask
if she is the lady with whom you exchanged a few words this forenoon
at the door of the church?"

The young man turned his glance from the road toward his questioner by
way of tribute to such acumen. "I see that nothing escapes your
observation."

"It is my business to notice everything and to draw my own
conclusions," said the reporter modestly.

"They are shrewdly correct in this case. Would you be surprised,"
continued Dryden in a confidential tone, "if I were to inform you that
I believe it lies in your power to procure me a home and happiness?"

Harrington chuckled in his secret soul. He would dissemble. "How could