shook her head.

"I am doing what I must," she answered. "Please don't sympathize with
me. I am hysterical, I think, tonight. It will pass off."

"But, Beatrice," he ventured, timidly, "could one do nothing for you?
I don't like these performances, and between you and me, we know they
won't stand your father's show much longer. It will certainly come to an
end soon. Why don't you try and get back your place at the theatre? You
could still earn enough to keep him."

"Already I have tried," she replied, sorrowfully. "My place is filled
up. You see," she added, with a forced laugh, "I have lost some of
my looks, Leonard. I am thinner, too. Of course, I shall be all right
presently, but it's rather against me at these west-end places."

Again he felt that pain at his heart. He was sure now that he was
beginning to understand!

"Beatrice," he whispered, "give it up--marry me I will take care of
him."

The flush of color faded from her cheeks. She shivered a little and
looked at him piteously.

"Leonard," she pleaded, "you mustn't. I really am not very strong just
now. We have finished with all that--it distresses me."

"But I mean it," he begged. "Somehow, I have felt all sorts of things
since we came in here. I think of that night, and I believe--I do
believe that what came to me before was madness. It was not the same."

She was trembling now.

"Leonard," she implored, "if you care for me at all, be quiet. Father
will turn round directly and I can't bear it. I shall be your very
faithful friend; I shall think of you through the long days before we
meet again, but don't--don't spoil this last evening."

The professor turned round, his face mottled, his eyes moist, a great
good-humor apparent in his tone.

"Well, I must say," he declared, "that this has been a most delightful
evening. I feel immensely better, and you, too, I hope, Beatrice?"

She nodded, smiling.

"I trust that when Mr. Tavernake returns," the professor continued,
"he will give us the opportunity of entertaining him in much the same
manner. It will give me very much pleasure, also Beatrice. And if, sir,"
he proceeded, "during your stay in New York you will mention my name at
the Goat's Club, or the Mosquito Club, you will, I think, find yourself
received with a hospitality which will surprise you."

Tavernake thanked him and paid the bill. They walked slowly down the
room, and Tavernake was curiously reluctant to release the little hand
w