er been sentimental with you?"

"No."

"Have I ever made love to you?"

She did not reply. Her eyes were fixed on her glass.

"Have I, Athalie?" he repeated.

"No, Clive," she said gently.

"Well then; is there not on my part a very deep, solidly founded, and
vital friendship for you? Is there not a--"

"Don't let's talk about it," she interrupted in a low voice. "You
always make me very happy; you say I please you--interest and amuse
you. That is enough--more than enough--more than I ever hoped or
asked--"

"I said you make me happy;--happier than I have ever been," he
explained with emphasis. "Do you suppose for a moment that your regard
for me is warmer, deeper, more enduring, than is mine for you? Do you,
Athalie?"

She lifted her eyes to his. But she had nothing more to say on the
subject.

However, he began to insist,--a little impatiently,--on a direct
answer. And finally she said:

"Clive, you came into a rather empty life when you came into mine.
Judge how completely you have filled it.... And what it would be if
you went out of it. Your own life has always been full. If I should
disappear from it--" she ceased.

The quiet, accentless, almost listless dignity of the words surprised
and impressed him for a moment; then the reaction came in a faint glow
through every vein and a sudden impulse to respond to her with an
assurance of devotion a little out of key with the somewhat stately
and reserved measure of their duet called friendship.

"You also fill my life," he said. "You give me what I never had--an
intimacy and an understanding that satisfies. Had I my way I would be
with you all the time. No other woman interests me as you do. There
_is_ no other woman."

"Oh, Clive! And all the charming people you know--"

"I know many. None like you, Athalie."

"That is very sweet of you.... I'm trying to believe it.... I want
to.... There are many days to fill in when I am not with you. To fill
them with such a belief would be to shorten them.... I don't know. I
often wonder where you are; what you are doing; with what stately and
beautiful creature you are talking, laughing, walking, dancing."--She
shrugged her shoulders and gazed down at the dancers below. "The days
are very long, sometimes," she added, half to herself.

When again, calmly, she turned to him there was an odd expression on
his face, and the next second he reddened and shifted his gaze.
Neither spoke for a few moments.

Presen