ace's face came back to
her oddly. She remembered suddenly the strange sad way he had stared
at Betty on the evening of her party at the Inn. She reconstructed
Betty's love-story, and its sudden breaking off, three years before,
and with her new insight into the human heart, decided that these two
loved each other still, and must be helped to the consummation of
their happiness. She telephoned to them both the next day that they
could be of service to her; and made an appointment to meet them at a
given hour the next evening at her apartment.

She expected and intended to be there herself to give the meeting the
semblance of coincidence, and to offer them the hospitality of her
house before she was inspired with the excuse that would permit her an
exit that left them alone together; but she found herself in the slums
of Harlem by an Italian baby's bedside at that hour, and decided that
even to telephone would be superfluous, as once finding each other the
lovers would be oblivious to all other considerations.

What actually happened was that Preston Eustace, exactly on time as
was his habit, had been waiting some ten minutes on Nancy's hearth-rug
when Betty, delayed by the eccentricities of a casual motor-bus
engine, and frantic with anxiety for her friend, burst in upon him. So
full was she of the most hectic speculations concerning Nancy's sudden
appeal to her that she scarcely noticed who was waiting there to greet
her, and when she did notice, scarcely heeded that recognition.

"Where's Nancy?" she demanded breathlessly.

"I don't know, Betty," Preston Eustace said.

"Doesn't Hitty know?"

"She says she doesn't!"

"How did you happen to be here?"

"She sent for me."

"She's probably sent for everybody else," Betty said. "She's killed
herself, I know she has."

"What makes you think so?"

"Her heart is broken, she's been suffering terribly."

"I don't think she would have sent for me if she had been going to
kill herself," Preston Eustace said, a little as if he would have
added, "We are not on those terms."

"I don't suppose she would," Betty said. "But oh, Preston, I'm so
worried about her. I don't know where she is or anything. I tell you
her heart is broken."

"I didn't know you believed in hearts--broken or otherwise, Betty."

"I believe in Nancy's heart."

"You never believed in mine."

"You never gave me much reason to, Preston. You--you let me give you
back your ring the first time I th