I couldn't
stand a whole evening of him."

"Then I shall certainly refuse to go," Beatrix said decidedly.

Lorimer raised his brows inquiringly.

"For any especial reason?"

She had risen from the table, and now she stood looking down at him, a
world of disappointed love showing in her dark eyes. She forced herself
to smile a little, as her eyes met his.

"I am old-fashioned, Sidney. I don't like going to the theatre with
other men than my husband, four months after my wedding day."

He dropped his paper hastily, and, rising, linked his arm in hers.

"Why, Beatrix dear, I didn't suppose--"

"No," she said quietly; "but I wish you had supposed. Still, as long as
I found it out in time, there is no great harm done."

"But with older people like the Andersons," he urged. "And I should have
been there to come home with you."

She was silent, and he went on, after a pause,--

"I didn't think of your minding, dear girl. You know that I wouldn't be
discourteous to you for anything."

"Never mind about it now, Sidney. I can telephone to Mrs. Anderson, and
it will be all right," she answered more gently, for she felt the
contrition in his tone and it softened her momentary resentment at his
calm way of adjusting her convenience and happiness to his plans.
"Mother said Bobby is coming, and possibly Sally Van Osdel. She wanted
the four of us to go there for an impromptu dinner such as we used to
have."

"I am sorry, dear." There was a real note of regret in Lorimer's voice.
"She should have telephoned us earlier."

"She waited for Bobby's decision. He is the only one of us, you know,
who makes even a pretence of being busy. Besides, as late in the season
as this, it is generally safe to count on people."

"Apparently not," Lorimer returned lightly. "At least, I seem to be the
unlucky exception that proves the rule. I am sorry, for I know your
mother's dinners of old. I would break most engagements for them."

"Why not this?" she urged.

"Impossible. I promised, a week ago."

Her face flushed.

"How does it happen you haven't mentioned it?"

His answering laugh was frank and free from any taint of bitterness.

"Because I knew you didn't like Dudley, dear girl, and I didn't see any
use in discussing a matter on which we were bound to differ." He
evidently had had no intention of saying more; but, as he saw her
downcast face, he went on, "Truly, Beatrix, I couldn't decently refuse
the fellow, without any g