change of air and scene. His physicians
had ordered for him three months' travel abroad, and he simply would
not go unless Doctor and Mrs. Todd went with him. Unfortunately,
Doctor and Mrs. Todd could not go without their daughter. Surely
David, always self-denying, would understand. On one side was her own
happiness; on the other her duty to her parents to whom had come this
opportunity to see Europe, their life dream, as guests of this generous
friend. It was very hard for her to have to choose. David knew, of
course, what she would say were she really free to choose, but, after
all, it was only for four months, and all that time I should know that,
though she was far away, her eyes were turned over-sea.

I did not read the last five pages. They fluttered to the floor from
my listless fingers, and I turned again to my pillow and sought the
friend of woe, and again Sleep came to me with her kindly
ministrations. And again I walked the Avenue, and by a modiste's door
I saw a slender figure, a little, spotless, booted foot upon the step,
a little, spotless, gloved hand on the rail, and a small black hat with
long blue wings moving majestically.

CHAPTER XV

"Penelope!" I exclaimed, holding out both hands as though her joy at
the meeting must match mine and she would spring forward to seize them.
Then I checked my ardor, for it was the highest presumption for me to
address so familiarly this woman grown, even though in years gone by
she had raced with me over the fields and had ridden behind me on such
a poor charger as Nathan, the white mule. "Miss Blight," I added, with
a formal bow.

"I beg your pardon," she returned, implying that she had not the
remotest idea who the man could be who had so boldly spoken, halted
her, barred her passage from the brougham to the modiste's door.

"Don't you remember David Malcolm?" I said.

The frown fled from her face. She regarded me a moment with wide eyes.
"Of course I remember David Malcolm," she cried, and, smiling, she held
out a small gloved hand. "And I have seen you before at this very
spot--I was sure it was you. But why didn't you speak to me then?"

"Because I was not sure," I returned, laughing aloud for the joy of
this meeting. "You have changed since I saw you last, Penelope. It is
hard even now to believe----"

Again I checked myself. I was looking past Penelope to the woman with
the Pomeranian. Disapproval of me was so plainly evident in