ed to fail. Minna had
come--had been driven to this; and he, acting too late upon his tardy
resolve, had not been able to prevent it. Were the horrors, then, never
to end? Was the grisly spectre of consequence to forever dance in his
vision? Were the results, the far-reaching results of that battle at
the irrigating ditch to cross his path forever? When would the affair
be terminated, the incident closed? Where was that spot to which the
tentacle of the monster could not reach?

By now, he was sick with the dread of it all. He wanted to get away, to
be free from that endless misery, so that he might not see what he
could no longer help. Cowardly he now knew himself to be. He thought of
himself only with loathing.

Bitterly self-contemptuous that he could bring himself to a
participation in such trivialities, he began to dress to keep his
engagement to dine with the Cedarquists.

He arrived at the house nearly half an hour late, but before he could
take off his overcoat, Mrs. Cedarquist appeared in the doorway of the
drawing-room at the end of the hall. She was dressed as if to go out.

"My DEAR Presley," she exclaimed, her stout, over-dressed body bustling
toward him with a great rustle of silk. "I never was so glad. You poor,
dear poet, you are thin as a ghost. You need a better dinner than I can
give you, and that is just what you are to have."

"Have I blundered?" Presley hastened to exclaim. "Did not Mr. Cedarquist
mention Friday evening?"

"No, no, no," she cried; "it was he who blundered. YOU blundering in
a social amenity! Preposterous! No; Mr. Cedarquist forgot that we were
dining out ourselves to-night, and when he told me he had asked you
here for the same evening, I fell upon the man, my dear, I did actually,
tooth and nail. But I wouldn't hear of his wiring you. I just dropped
a note to our hostess, asking if I could not bring you, and when I told
her who you WERE, she received the idea with, oh, empressement. So,
there it is, all settled. Cedarquist and the girls are gone on ahead,
and you are to take the old lady like a dear, dear poet. I believe I
hear the carriage. Allons! En voiture!"

Once settled in the cool gloom of the coupe, odorous of leather and
upholstery, Mrs. Cedarquist exclaimed:

"And I've never told you who you were to dine with; oh, a personage,
really. Fancy, you will be in the camp of your dearest foes. You are
to dine with the Gerard people, one of the Vice-Presidents of your b