ed in the comfortable porch chairs. The charms of
the summer evening had held them after their afternoon of play. And from
one of the groups came the sound of a voice--a man's voice--which Orme
found vaguely familiar. He could not place it, however, and he quickly
forgot it in his general impression of the scene.

In this atmosphere of gayety he felt strangely out of place. Here all was
chatter and froth--the activity of the surface-joy of living; but he had
stepped into it fresh from a series of events that had uncovered the
inner verities.

Here the ice tinkled in cool glasses, and women laughed happily, and
every one was under the spell of the velvety summer evening; but he had
looked into the face of Love and the face of Death--and both were still
near to his heart.

He found a servant and asked for the Wallinghams.

"Mr. Wallingham has left, sir," said the man, "but Mrs. Wallingham is
here."

"Ask her if Mr. Orme may speak to her."

He smiled rather grimly as the servant departed, for he anticipated
Bessie's laughing accusations.

And presently she came, an admonishing finger upheld.

"Robert--Orme," she exclaimed, "how dare you show your face now?"

"I couldn't help it, Bessie. Honest, I couldn't. I must ask you to
forgive and forget."

"That's a hard request, Bob. You have broken two engagements in one
day--and one of them for dinner. But never mind. I have a weakness that I
acquired from Tom--I mean the weakness of believing in you. Go ahead and
explain yourself."

"It would take too long, Bessie. Please let me put it off."

"Until you can manage a good excuse? You want all the trumps."

"My explanation is all tangled up with other people's affairs. Where's
Tom?"

"He went back to the city early--awfully sorry that he couldn't stay to
have dinner with you. There is a committee or something this evening."

"Bessie, you know what I asked you over the telephone. Can you--can you
help me?"

"What--_Now?_"

"Yes."

"Why, Bob, what's the matter with you? This is no time of day to make a
call."

"It's very important, Bessie. It doesn't concern the young lady alone. I
simply must be at her house within the next two hours."

She eyed him earnestly. "If you say that, Bob, I must believe you. And,
of course, I'll help all I can."

Orme sighed his relief. "Thanks," he said.

She flashed a speculative glance at him.

"I'm sorry," he said, "that I can't tell you what it's all about. You'll
just