,--anything at all that Clive had given her. And there was
one reason why she never would do it: she refused to consider anything
he had given her as her own property to dispose of if she chose. For
she had accepted these things from Clive only because it gave him
pleasure to give. And what she possessed she regarded as his property
held in trust. Nothing could have induced her to consider these things
in any other light.

One souvenir, only, did she look upon as her own. It had no financial
value; and, if it had, she would have starved before disposing of it.
This was the first thing he ever gave her--his boy's offering--the
gun-metal wrist-watch.

And her only recent extravagance had been a sentimental one; she had
the watch cleaned and regulated, and a new leather strap adjusted. The
evening it was returned to her she wore it; and that night she slept
with the watch strapped to her wrist.

So much for a young girl's sentiment!--for no letter came from him on
the morrow although the European mail was in. None came the next day;
nor the next.

Toward the end of the week, one sultry evening, when Athalie returned
from an unsuccessful tour of job-hunting, and nearer depression than
ever she had yet been, Captain Dane came stalking in, shook hands with
his usual decision, picked up Hafiz who adored him, and took the
chair nearest to the lounge where Athalie lay.

[Illustration: "With him she visited the various museums and art
galleries."]

"Suppose we dine somewhere?" he suggested, fondling the purring Angora
and rubbing its ears.

"Would you mind," she said, "if I didn't?"

"You're very tired, aren't you, Miss Greensleeve?"

"A little. I don't believe I have the energy to go out with you."

Still fondling the willing cat he said: "What's wrong? Something's
wrong, isn't it?"

"No indeed."

He turned and gave her a square look: "You're quite sure?"

"Quite."

"Oh; all right. Will you let me have dinner here with you?"

She said without embarrassment: "I neglected my marketing: there's
very little in the pantry."

"Well," he said, "I'm hungry and I'm going to call up the Hotel
Trebizond and have them send us some dinner."

She seemed inclined to demur, but he had his way, went to the
telephone and gave his orders.

The dinner arrived in due time and was excellent. And when the remains
of the dinner and the waiter who served it had been cleared out,
Athalie felt better.

"You ought to go to the co