dinarily it was exactly what he would desire. But to-night he was in
an unusual mood--a mood that was the culmination of a restlessness
covering an entire month. But what the deuce was the name and cause of
it? He could no longer attribute it to the fact that he had gone stale
physically, because he had now had a rest of several weeks. It was not
that he was bored; those who are bored never stop to ask themselves why
they are bored or they would not be bored. It was not that he was
homesick, because, strictly speaking, he had no home. A home seems to
involve the female element and some degree of permanence. This unrest
was something new--something, apparently, that had to do vaguely with
the fact that he was thirty-two. If Edhart--

Impatiently he started again for his hotel. This confoundedly
good-natured, self-satisfied crowd moving in couples irritated him. At
that moment a tall, slender girl turned, hesitated, then started toward
him. He did not recognize her at first, but the mere fact that she
came toward him--that any one came toward him--quickened his pulse. It
brought him back instantly from the shadowy realm of specters to the
good old solid earth. It was he, Covington, who was standing there.

Then she raised her eyes--dark eyes deep as trout pools; steady,
confident, but rather sad eyes. They appeared to be puzzled by the
eagerness with which he stepped forward and grasped her hand.

"Marjory!" he exclaimed. "I did n't know you were in Paris!"

She smiled--a smile that extended no farther than the corners of her
perfect mouth.

"That's to excuse yourself for not looking me up, Monte?"

She had a full, clear voice. It was good to hear a voice that he could
recognize.

"No," he answered frankly. "That's honest. I thought you were
somewhere in Brittany. But are you bound anywhere in particular?"

"Only home."

"Still living on the Boulevard Saint-Germain?"

She nodded.

"Number forty-three?"

He was glad he was able to remember that number.

"Number sixty-four," she corrected.

They had been moving toward the Metro station, and here she paused.

"There is no need for you to come with me," she said. "But I'd like to
have you drop in for tea some afternoon--if you have time."

The strangers were still hurrying past him--to the north, the south,
the east, the west. Men and women were hurrying past, laughing, intent
upon themselves, each with some definite objective in mind.