y!" exclaimed Old Grannis, never for an instant
doubting its truth. "And it's all lost now, you say?"

"Lost, lost," repeated Maria.

"Tut, tut! What a pity! What a pity!"

Suddenly the agent rose and broke out with:

"Well, I must be going, if I'm to get any car."

He shook hands with everybody, offered a parting cigar to Marcus,
congratulated McTeague and Trina a last time, and bowed himself out.

"What an elegant gentleman," commented Miss Baker.

"Ah," said Marcus, nodding his head, "there's a man of the world for
you. Right on to himself, by damn!"

The company broke up.

"Come along, Mac," cried Marcus; "we're to sleep with the dogs to-night,
you know."

The two friends said "Good-night" all around and departed for the little
dog hospital.

Old Grannis hurried to his room furtively, terrified lest he should
again be brought face to face with Miss Baker. He bolted himself in and
listened until he heard her foot in the hall and the soft closing of
her door. She was there close beside him; as one might say, in the same
room; for he, too, had made the discovery as to the similarity of the
wallpaper. At long intervals he could hear a faint rustling as she moved
about. What an evening that had been for him! He had met her, had spoken
to her, had touched her hand; he was in a tremor of excitement. In a
like manner the little old dressmaker listened and quivered. HE was
there in that same room which they shared in common, separated only by
the thinnest board partition. He was thinking of her, she was almost
sure of it. They were strangers no longer; they were acquaintances,
friends. What an event that evening had been in their lives!

Late as it was, Miss Baker brewed a cup of tea and sat down in her
rocking chair close to the partition; she rocked gently, sipping her
tea, calming herself after the emotions of that wonderful evening.

Old Grannis heard the clinking of the tea things and smelt the faint
odor of the tea. It seemed to him a signal, an invitation. He drew his
chair close to his side of the partition, before his work-table. A pile
of half-bound "Nations" was in the little binding apparatus; he threaded
his huge upholsterer's needle with stout twine and set to work.

It was their tete-a-tete. Instinctively they felt each other's presence,
felt each other's thought coming to them through the thin partition.
It was charming; they were perfectly happy. There in the stillness that
settled over the