ld not afford to throw away a
single card. As the mysterious lady of the fog she had called him a
"fresh Aleck," thanks to his idiotic blundering; but even before that
she had chosen for some reason to exert her woman's prerogative and had
informed him quite plainly that she did not desire his acquaintance.
That ought to have been enough! Then as Miss Margaret Williams she
naturally would visit upon him her resentment at being surprised in her
eavesdropping; the very stigma of the position in which she found
herself before him could be relied upon to add fuel to her dislike, if
it were not already sufficiently ablaze because she was beholden to him
for his silence in regard to the matter. In the role of Ferguson's
stenographer she had told him a second time that she did not wish to
know him. Why, she actually disliked him so much that even after his
timely arrival in the park had placed her under the obligation of
common civility towards him--even after that it had been impossible for
her to endure his forced escort a moment longer than it could be
avoided!

And finally, there was that solitaire ring on her engagement finger.
It did not matter much whether she were engaged to somebody in Buffalo
or to McAllister, editor-in-chief of the _Recorder_. She could marry
whom she pleased. He wasn't in love with her. That sort of thing was
all rot! It was just that he hated anybody to think ill of him, to
dislike him as much as apparently she did. He wanted to apologize
for--well, for anything she might want him to apologize for. He wanted
her to tell him why she did not wish to number him among her friends.
He wanted to be her friend; that was it--Platonic friendship! She was
the first girl he had ever fancied he might like to go and talk to once
in a while. Just for the pleasure of--well, chumming with her. It
wasn't a good thing for a fellow who had no sister not to have a girl
chum. She was--oh, what a peacherino of a girl she was!

He smiled wistfully as he conjured a mental picture of her. Once more
he took out the dollar bill, unfolded it and studied the dainty
hand-painted pin and when he restored it carefully to its place in his
pocket-book he breathed deeply and his eyes shone. Which, of course,
is the way of things Platonic!

What a deuce of a mix everything had been getting into this last little
while back! It was as bad as one of those mystery yarns in the
magazines with something happening on ev