ressed her
slender length against him, and whispered with lifted face and lips
close to his: "We needn't ever go anywhere you don't want to." For
once her submission was sweet, and folding her close he whispered back
through his kiss: "Not there, then."

In her response to his embrace he felt the acquiescence of her whole
happy self in whatever future he decided on, if only it gave them enough
of such moments as this; and as they held each other fast in silence his
doubts and distrust began to seem like a silly injustice.

"Let us stay here as long as ever Ellie will let us," he said, as if the
shadowy walls and shining floors were a magic boundary drawn about his
happiness.

She murmured her assent and stood up, stretching her sleepy arm above
her shoulders. "How dreadfully late it is.... Will you unhook me?... Oh,
there's a telegram."

She picked it up from the table, and tearing it open stared a moment at
the message. "It's from Ellie. She's coming to-morrow."

She turned to the window and strayed out onto the balcony. Nick followed
her with enlacing arm. The canal below them lay in moonless shadow,
barred with a few lingering lights. A last snatch of gondola-music came
from far off, carried upward on a sultry gust.

"Dear old Ellie. All the same... I wish all this belonged to you and
me." Susy sighed.

VIII.

IT was not Mrs. Vanderlyn's fault if, after her arrival, her palace
seemed to belong any less to the Lansings.

She arrived in a mood of such general benevolence that it was impossible
for Susy, when they finally found themselves alone, to make her view
even her own recent conduct in any but the most benevolent light.

"I knew you'd be the veriest angel about it all, darling, because I knew
you'd understand me--especially now," she declared, her slim hands
in Susy's, her big eyes (so like Clarissa's) resplendent with past
pleasures and future plans.

The expression of her confidence was unexpectedly distasteful to Susy
Lansing, who had never lent so cold an ear to such warm avowals. She had
always imagined that being happy one's self made one--as Mrs. Vanderlyn
appeared to assume--more tolerant of the happiness of others, of however
doubtful elements composed; and she was almost ashamed of responding so
languidly to her friend's outpourings. But she herself had no desire to
confide her bliss to Ellie; and why should not Ellie observe a similar
reticence?

"It was all so perfect--you see, dea