s something to
look at in the fire-glow.

"I wanted to spend my last evening here with you," she said.

He smiled back at her. "Three people looked in here this evening and
told me you thought you ought."

She answered indignantly: "I didn't say I ought. I didn't think it. I
wanted to. And I didn't want them to stay. That is why I let them all
array themselves before I refused to go."

He was still smiling. "Delicate flattery," he said, "adapted to an
invalid. You should never let an invalid think you pity him--at least
not a man-invalid who got knocked out while playing a vigorous game for
all it was worth."

"Jerry," she said, looking full at him out of a pair of eyes which were
capable of saying eloquent things quite by themselves, "do you think all
the hours I've spent with you in this month I've been visiting Hester
were spent from pity?"

"I hope not," he answered lightly. "I'm sure not. We've had some
pleasant times, haven't we?"

She turned from him without speaking, and, clasping her hands loosely
in front of her, bent forward and studied the fire. Presently she got up
and took a fresh log from the basket.

"Be careful," he warned, as she stooped to lay it in place. "Put it on
gently. The sparks might fly, and that cobweb dress of yours----"

She laid the log across the other half-burnt sticks, and started back
with a little cry as a dozen brilliant points of flame flew toward her.

"Don't do that again," he protested sternly, with nothing of the invalid
in his voice. "I don't like to see you do such things when I couldn't
stir to save you no matter what happened."

She stood looking down at him. "Jerry," she said, "I'll tell you why I
stayed to-night. I wanted to talk with you about something. I want your
help."

His eyes told her that he would give it if he could.

"Do you mind if I sit on a pillow here before the fire?" she asked,
bringing one from the couch. Jerry had plenty of pillows. Since his
breakdown every girl who had ever known him had sent him a fresh one.

"Somehow I can talk better," she explained.

She settled herself on her cushion, her blue skirts lying in light folds
about her, her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee.

"I always go straight to the point," she said. "I never know how to lead
artfully up to a thing. Jerry, you know I go to Paris in January, to do
some special work in illustrating?"

"Yes."

"I go with Aunt Elizabeth, and we shall live very quietly and