m wonderingly, like a child that
has received a caress where it expected a blow.

'Say,' she said, in a queer nasal whine, 'I thought you was a devil
when I seen you a minute ago. Honest--you frightened me.'

He said nothing.

'Why'--there was a weak quaver in her whine, and she caught his wrist
with her hand--'why, you're kind--and I thought you was a devil. Gee!
ain't it funny?'

With a shrill laugh that set his teeth on edge, she put up the umbrella
and walked out into the rain. And only a passing policeman saw, by the
light of a lamp, that her eyes were glistening.

Selwyn remained where he was, blinking stupidly into the rain-soaked
night, as one who has been walking in his sleep and has waked at the
edge of an abyss.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE CHALLENGE.

I.

It was nearly noon next day before Selwyn woke from a heavy, dreamless
sleep. Both in mind and in body there was the listlessness which follows
the passing of a crisis, but for the first time in many days he felt the
impulse to face life again, to accept its bludgeonings, unflinching.

He was almost fully dressed, when a messenger arrived with a letter. It
was from Edgerton Forbes.

'MY DEAR AUSTIN,--I have been trying to get hold of you for the past
week, but you are as elusive as a hundred-dollar bill. Douglas Watson
has returned from the front, minus an arm, and he has asked as many
ex-Harvard men as possible to meet him at the University Club. We are
having dinner there to-night in one of the smaller rooms, and I want you
to come with me. I'll pick you up at your hotel at seven, and we can
walk over. If it is all right, send word by the messenger.--As ever,
FORBES.'

Selwyn's first instinct was to refuse. He had no desire to meet Watson
again just yet, nor did he want to face men with whom he had lived at
Harvard. But the thought of another lonely night arose--night, with its
germs of madness.

'Tell Mr. Forbes,' he said, 'that I shall expect him at seven.'

A few minutes before the time arranged the clergyman called, and they
started for the club. The air was raw and chilling, and people were
hurrying through the streets, taking no heed of the illuminated shop
windows, tempting the eye of woman and the purse of man. In almost every
towering building the lights of offices were gleaming, as tired,
routine-chained staffs worked on into the night tabulating and recording
the ever-increasing prosperity of the times.

The