standing
over her with something in his hand which he had taken from his vest,
something small and shining, and he was saying:

"Want to wear it, Les? Here, I'll put it on you, then everybody will
think we are engaged----!"

It was his fraternity pin he was holding out with smiling assurance
and the significance of his words came over her as a sentence read
without comprehension will suddenly recall itself and pierce into the
realization. With a stifled cry she sprang away from him.

"Mercy, no, Clive! I didn't know you were so silly. I never wear boys'
fraternity pins. I think such things are too sacred to be trifled
with!"

This was what she said, but she was miserably aware that Howard had
turned away and picked up his hat just as Clive had leaned over her
with the pin, and almost immediately he left. He had been so engrossed
with his talk with Allison that he had not seemed to see her
repulsion of Clive, and his manner toward her as he bade her
good-night was cool and distant. All the pleasant intimacy of all the
months together seemed suddenly wiped out, and Howard a grown-up
stranger. She felt herself a miserably unhappy little girl.

Julia Cloud, from the advantage of the dining-room where she was doing
little things, for the next day, watched the drama with a heavy heart.
What had come between her children, and what could she do about it?
The only comforting thing about it seemed to be that each was as
unhappy as the other. Could it be that Howard Letchworth was jealous
of this small-souled, spoiled son of fortune who was visiting them?
Surely not. Yet what made him act in this ridiculous fashion? She felt
like shaking him even while she pitied him. She half-meditated calling
him back and trying to find out what was the matter, but gave it up.
After all, what could she do?

Leslie, as the door closed behind Howard, turned with one dagger look
at Clive, and dashed up-stairs to her room, where she locked herself
in and cried till her eyes were too swollen for study; but she only
told Julia Cloud, when she came up gently to inquire, that she had a
bad headache and wanted to go to bed.

Julia Cloud, kneeling beside her gray couch a little later, laying all
her troubles on the One who was her strength, found it hard not to
emphasize her dislike even in prayer toward the useless little excuse
for a young man who was lolling down-stairs reading a novel and
smoking innumerable cigarettes in spite of her express