men "swam out like trout" from the shadows to meet
her, she told John presently, evoking one of his bursts of laughter.
One of them called him, and Martie had a sensation of real affection as
he came down, his eager, faunlike face one radiant smile. She spoke of
the manuscript, but he hardly heard her. Where could they talk?--he
said concernedly. He glanced about; his face brightened.

"I know! There's a set of five rooms just finished by our decorator on
the fourth floor; we'll go there!"

"But, John--truly I haven't but a minute!" Martie protested.

He did not hear her. He touched the elevator bell, and they went
upstairs.

The furnished suite was unbelievably lovely to Martie's unaccustomed
eyes. She wanted to exclaim over the rugs and chairs; John wanted to
talk. They wandered through the perfect rooms, laughing like happy
children.

"I came down to get some things for to-morrow--Teddy needs a straw hat,
if we're really going to Coney"--Martie found his steady look a little
confusing. "You like my pongee, and my four-dollar hat?" she said.

"I think you're PERFECTLY--GORGEOUS!" he answered intensely. "To have
you come in here like this!--I had no idea of it! Brewer simply came
and said 'a lady'--I thought it was that woman from the hotel. I'll
never forget the instant my eyes fell upon you, standing there by old
Pitcher. It--honestly, Martie, it seemed to me like a burst of
sunshine!"

"Why--you goose!" she said, a little shaken. The circumstance of their
being here, in this exquisite semblance of domestic comfort, the sweet
summer day, the new flowery hat and cool pongee gown, combined to stir
her blood. She forgot everything but that she was young, and that it
was strangely thrilling to have this man, so ardent and so forceful,
standing close beside her.

It was almost with a sense of relief, a second later, that she realized
that other groups were drifting through the little apartment, that she
and John were not alone. She remembered, with a strange, poignant
contraction of her heart, the expression in his eyes as they met, the
authoritative finger with which he had touched the elevator bell.

John spoke appreciatively of her visit that night at the table; Adele
said that Martie had told her of it.

"I was going down town with her," said Adele, playing idly with knife
and fork. "But I got started on that disgusting centrepiece again, and
Ethel came in, and we just sewed. I'm so sick of the thing now I