for that matter. When I gave
you my name it was given in good faith. The act did not imply that I
desired to know yours."

"But you did!"--imperiously.

"Yes. Curiosity is the brain of our mental anatomy." When Max began
to utter tall phrases it was a sign of even-balanced mentality.

"And if I hadn't told you my name, you would have asked for it."

"Not the first day."

"Well, you would have on Tuesday."

"Not a bit of a doubt." He certainly wouldn't show her how much he
cared. (What was she doing in this carriage? She had said nothing
that morning about traveling.)

"Well, you will admit that under the circumstances I had the right to
give any name it pleased me to give."

He came over to her end and sat down. Her protests (half-hearted) he
ignored.

"I can not see very well from over there," he explained.

"It is not necessary that you should see; you can hear what I have to
say."

"Very well; I'll go back." And he did. He made a fine pretense of
looking out of the window. Why should this girl cross his path at this
unhappy moment?

There was a pause.

"You are not near so nice as you were this morning," she said presently.

"I can't be nice and sit away over here."

"What made you jump into this compartment, of all others?"

"I wasn't particular what compartment I got into so long as I got into
one. As I said, I was in a hurry."

"You said nothing this morning about going away from Barscheit."

"Neither did you."

Another pause. (I take it, from the character of this dialogue, that
their morning rides must have been rather interesting.)

"You told me that you were in Barscheit to study nerves,"--wickedly.

"So thought I, up to half-past nine to-night; but it appears that I am
not,"--gloomily.

"You are running away, too?"--with suppressed eagerness.

"Running away, too!" he repeated. "Are _you_ running away?"

"As fast as ever the train can carry me. I am on the way to Dresden."

"Dresden? It seems that Fate is determined that we shall travel
together this day. Dresden is my destination also."

"Let me see your passports,"--extending a firm white hand.

He obeyed docilely, as docilely as though he were married. She gave
the paper one angry glance and tossed it back.

"George Ellis; so that is your name?"--scornfully. "You told me that
it was Scharfenstein. I did not ask you to tell me your name; you took
that service upon yourself." She recalled the duke's de