damnable. It's the appearance of the thing, don't
you see that?"

"I think it is rather silly to talk of appearance when there is no one
to care. And how can I leave? Jimmy needs me all the time--"

"That's another idiocy of Peter's. What does he mean by putting you in
this position?"

"I am one of Peter's idiocies."

Peter entered on that. He took in the situation with a glance, and
Harmony turned to him; but if she had expected Peter to support her, she
was disappointed. Whatever decision she was to make must be her own,
in Peter's troubled mind. He crossed the room and stood at one of the
windows, looking out, a passive participant in the scene.

The day had been a trying one for Harmony. What she chose to consider
Peter's defection was a fresh stab. She glanced from McLean, flushed and
excited, to Peter's impassive back. Then she sat down, rather limp, and
threw out her hands helplessly.

"What am I to do?" she demanded. "Every one comes with cruel things to
say, but no one tells me what to do."

Peter turned away from the window.

"You can leave here," ventured McLean. "That's the first thing. After
that--"

"Yes, and after that, what?"

McLean glanced at Peter. Then he took a step toward the girl.

"You could marry me, Harmony," he said unsteadily. "I hadn't expected
to tell you so soon, or before a third person." He faltered before
Harmony's eyes, full of bewilderment. "I'd be very happy if you--if you
could see it that way. I care a great deal, you see."

It seemed hours to Peter before she made any reply, and that her voice
came from miles away.

"Is it really as bad as that?" she asked. "Have I made such a mess of
things that some one, either you or Peter, must marry me to straighten
things out? I don't want to marry any one. Do I have to?"

"Certainly you don't have to," said Peter. There was relief in his
voice, relief and also something of exultation. "McLean, you mean well,
but marriage isn't the solution. We were getting along all right until
our friends stepped in. Let Mrs. Boyer howl all over the colony; there
will be one sensible woman somewhere to come and be comfortable here
with us. In the interval we'll manage, unless Harmony is afraid. In that
case--"

"Afraid of what?"

The two men exchanged glances, McLean helpless, Peter triumphant.

"I do not care what Mrs. Boyer says, at least not much. And I am not
afraid of anything else at all."

McLean picked up his overcoat.

"A