t least," he appealed to Peter, "you'll come over to my place?"

"No!" said Peter.

McLean made a final appeal to Harmony.

"If this gets out," he said, "you are going to regret it all your life."

"I shall have nothing to regret," she retorted proudly.

Had Peter not been there McLean would have made a better case, would
have pleaded with her, would have made less of a situation that roused
her resentment and more of his love for her. He was very hard hit, very
young. He was almost hysterical with rage and helplessness; he wanted
to slap her, to take her in his arms. He writhed under the restraint of
Peter's steady eyes.

He got to the door and turned, furious.

"Then it's up to you," he flung at Peter. "You're old enough to know
better; she isn't. And don't look so damned superior. You're human, like
the rest of us. And if any harm comes to her--"

Here unexpectedly Peter held out his hand, and after a sheepish moment
McLean took it.

"Good-night, old man," said Peter. "And--don't be an ass."

As was Peter's way, the words meant little, the tone much. McLean knew
what in his heart he had known all along--that the girl was safe enough;
that all that was to fear was the gossip of scandal-lovers. He took
Peter's hand, and then going to Harmony stood before her very erect.

"I suppose I've said too much; I always do," he said contritely. "But
you know the reason. Don't forget the reason, will you?"

"I am only sorry."

He bent over and kissed her hand lingeringly. It was a tragic moment for
him, poor lad! He turned and went blindly out the door and down the dark
stone staircase. It was rather anticlimax, after all that, to have Peter
discover he had gone without his hat and toss it down to him a flight
below.

All the frankness had gone out of the relationship between Harmony and
Peter. They made painful efforts at ease, talked during the meal of
careful abstractions, such as Jimmy, and Peter's proposed trip to
Semmering, avoided each other's eyes, ate little or nothing. Once when
Harmony passed Peter his coffee-cup their fingers touched, and between
them they dropped the cup. Harmony was flushed and pallid by turns,
Peter wretched and silent.

Out of the darkness came one ray of light. Stewart had wired from
Semmering, urging Peter to come. He would be away for two days. In two
days much might happen; Dr. Jennings might come or some one else. In two
days some of the restraint would have worn off. Things