ned with a positive
motherly assurance. "My poor dear boy," she added soothingly, "you are
not the first man of twenty-five who has mistaken the literary mania for
the passion of love, and I fear that you will not be the last. There
seems, curiously enough, to be a strange resemblance between the two
emotions. If you'd only look at me plainly without any of your lovely
glamour you'll see in a minute what nonsense it all is. Why, you are all
the time in your heart of hearts in love with some little blonde thing
with pink cheeks who is still at school."

He turned away in a passion of wounded pride; then coming back again he
stood looking moodily down upon her.

"I'll prove to you if it kills me that I've spoken the truth," he
declared, and it seemed to him that the words were not really what he
meant to say--that they came from him against his will because he had
fitted them into the mouth of an imaginary character.

"Oh, please don't," she begged.

"I suppose I may still see you sometimes?" he enquired.

"Oh, dear, yes; whenever you like."

Then while he stood there, hesitating and indignant, the servant brought
her a card, and as she took it from the tray, he saw a flush that was
like a pale flame overspread her face.

"It's Mr. Kemper now," she said. "Why will you not stay and be good and
forget?"

"I'd rather meet the devil himself at this minute," he cried in a boyish
rage that brought tears to his eyes. "It seems to me that I spend half
my life getting out of his way."

"But don't you like him?" she enquired curiously. "Every one likes him,
I think."

"Well, I'm not every one," he blurted out angrily, "for I think him a
consummate, thickheaded ass."

"Good heavens!" she gayly ejaculated, "what a character you give him."
Then, as he was leaving the room, she reached out, and taking his hand,
drew him against his will, back to his chair. "You shall not go like
this--I'll not have it," she said. "Do you think I am a stone that I can
bear to spoil all your beautiful triumph. Here, sit down and I promise
to make you like both him and me."

As she finished, Kemper came in with his energetic step and his genial
greeting, and she introduced the two men with a little flattering smile
in Trent's direction. "You have the honour to meet our coming
playwright," she added with a gracious gesture, skilfully turning the
conversation upon the younger man's affairs, while she talked on with a
sweetness which at once