dislike. I think I shall go----"

"Wait," he said. "You are not telling me the truth. If you are
consistent you will turn your enmity to friendship at least. You will
decide there was nothing unusual in my asking you to marry me. You will
even find in that a reason for my anxiety at Upton. You will understand
that it is quite inevitable I should ask you to marry me again."

She sprang up and hurried away from him.

"Put on another record, Dolly----"

And almost before he had realized it Betty had taken her away, and the
evening's opportunities had closed.

V

For him the house became like a room at night out of which the only lamp
has been carried.

The others drifted away. George tried to read in the library. His
uneasiness, his anger, held him from bed. When at last he went upstairs
he fancied everyone was asleep, but moving in the hall outside his room
he saw a figure in a dressing gown. It paused as if it didn't care to be
detected going in the direction of the stairs. George caught the
figure's embarrassed hesitation, fancied a movement of retreat.

"Dalrymple!" he called, softly.

The other waited sullenly.

"What you up to?" George asked.

"Thought I'd explore downstairs for a book. Couldn't sleep. Nothing in
my room worth bothering with."

George smiled, the memory of Blodgett's admirable behaviour crowding his
mind. What better time than now to let his anger dictate to him, as it
had done that day in his office?

"Come in for a minute," he proposed to Dalrymple, and opened his door.

Dalrymple shook his head, but George took his arm and led him, guessing
that Dalrymple feared the subject of the notes.

"Bad humour!" George said. "You seem to be the only one up. I don't mind
chatting with you before turning in. Fact is, these wedding parties are
stupid, don't you think?"

Possibly George's manner was reassuring to Dalrymple. At any rate, he
yielded. George took off his coat, sat in an easy chair, and pressed the
call button.

"What's that for?" Dalrymple asked, uneasily.

"Sit down," George said. "Stupid and dry, these things! I'm going to try
to raise a servant. I want to gossip over a drink before I go to bed.
You'll join me?"

Dalrymple sat down. He moistened his lips.

"On the wagon," he muttered. "A long time on the wagon. Place to be,
too, and all that."

George didn't believe the other. If Dalrymple cared to prove him right
that was his own business.

"Before prohibition o