him forth from his exile;
but she was not satisfied with her progress in either one of her
self-imposed labors. Hamlen was a changed man since the new
companionship came into his life, but whenever he was brought up against
the question of leaving his retreat the old terror seized him, and he
slipped back behind his defenses.

"I wish I might," said he to her one day, "believe me, I wish I might;
but you don't know what you ask. The bitterness of my attitude toward
the world has become an abnormal condition which you could not be
expected to understand. Your visit here has tempered it--I know now that
there are exceptions; but don't urge me against my better judgment. Let
me remember this visit in all its happiness; perhaps its memory will
enable me later to do as you suggest."

Huntington was no more successful in his efforts. His classmate listened
to him patiently and showed a full appreciation of the friendly
suggestions; but no promise could be exacted, and Hamlen seemed stronger
than the combined forces against him. Yet, in spite of disappointments,
Huntington was optimistic.

"We may not be able to take him with us," he admitted to Marian, "but
after we are gone he will find this place unendurable. Time will be our
ally."

Cosden's sudden intimacy with Edith Stevens mystified Huntington, but he
welcomed it as a temporary respite. So long as Cosden was making no
exertion to advance his interests with Merry, no more active effort
could be expected from his friend. He asked no questions and Cosden
vouchsafed no information, which on both sides marked a change in the
relations of the two men.

Edith was equally mysterious with Marian, smiling sagely when her friend
tried to draw her out; but she admitted or denied nothing. She
faithfully performed her self-assumed duties, and Cosden lived up to his
agreement to take the medicine his doctor prescribed. By this time he
was able to pull through on the one-step and the canter waltz, but his
great success was the fox-trot. This, he discovered without assistance,
is danced in as many ways as there are individual dancers, so he
developed an original "series" which gave him supreme satisfaction,
since as he explained, no one could prove whether he or his partner was
at fault when a mistake was made. Edith had long since given up all hope
of having him follow the music, but he had actually learned the steps,
and his persistency in pursuing with grim relentlessness what