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Ingram had included Cleo in his "confession." He was rather inclined to doubt it, because he felt sure that the very strangeness of that _liaison_ would have made Helen want to tell him about it. "And what do you intend to do with him ultimately?" he asked. "Well, if I thought it would make you the least bit jealous, I should announce that I intended to accept him. But as there is no possible advantage to be gained by such a falsehood, it would be very extravagant of me to waste it. I've scattered so many of them in my time that I must be economical for the rest of my life." Though he had never for a moment believed there was any possibility of her marrying Ingram, he was yet relieved to hear her state her intentions so definitely. Such was his sense of Ingram's unworthiness of her! A couple of days later he went to Margaret's studio-warming. Both the experience and the anticipation of it were emotionally exciting. But as a good many of Margaret's particular friends were there, her attention had to be spread out a great deal, and he did not have to talk to her much at first. Certainly there was nothing between them that could be called conversation. He found it soothing to talk a little with Mrs. Medhurst, who was always equable, nice, and apparently in a pleased mood. She also had been receiving long confidential letters from his father, and she expressed the fear that at the rate the latter was now going in the direction of iconoclasm he was courting public suppression. "He is very much in earnest," she added. "I have written him at length about the bringing up of daughters--he insisted on having my views. He is very modest, though--just ventures to hope for success. 'If I only had Morgan's pen,' he once wrote, yearningly." To be reminded now how completely his father had been won over to belief in him was but to have all the bitterness of his failure again concentrated in one moment. During the rest of the time he found himself carrying on a half-hearted conversation here and there, yet with all his attention on Margaret. He followed her with his eyes, watching her every movement and gesture, noting her every smile, catching her laughter and the sound of her voice. Something that was light, that was sunshine, seemed to detach itself from her and to fill the whole room; something that brought a sense of happiness to mingle with his strange mood. He felt that happiness as a sick man feels a cool, s
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