to love a mere
singing animal? And besides," he concluded with a brutal cynicism which
repelled her sharply, "I'm of an economical turn, you know, and the love
of such women comes too high. I've seen them eat up a fellow's income as
if it were a box of Huyler's." The words were no sooner uttered than his
mood changed quickly and he was on his feet. "But I didn't mean to give
you the whole morning, sweetheart, I merely looked in to say that I
wanted you to come out with me in the car this afternoon. There's a fine
breeze blowing."

For a thoughtful moment she hesitated before she answered. "I told Roger
Adams that I should be at home," she returned, "but I dare say he won't
mind not seeing me."

"Oh, I dare say," he retorted gayly. "Well, I'll pick you up, then, on
the stroke of five."

As he left the room she went over to the window, and when he came out a
little later, he turned upon the sidewalk to glance up at her and wave
his hand. She was happy, perfectly happy, she told herself, as she
looked eagerly after the last glimpse of his figure; but even while she
framed the thought into words, she was conscious that her heart throbbed
high in disappointment and that her eyes were already blind with tears.

When Adams sent up his card, at twenty minutes before five o'clock, she
lingered a few moments before going downstairs in her motoring coat and
veil. In response to her embarrassed excuses, he made only a casual
expression of regret for the visit he had missed.

"It's a fine afternoon--just right for a run," he remarked, adding after
a brief hesitation. "It's the proper thing, I suppose, to offer you
congratulations, but I'm a poor hand, as you know, at making pretty
speeches. I wish you happiness with all my heart--that's about all there
is to say--isn't it?"

"That's about all," she echoed, "and at least if I'm not happy I shall
have only myself to blame."

The silence that followed seemed to them both unnatural and constrained;
and he broke it at last with a remark which sounded to him, while he
uttered it, almost irrelevant.

"I've never seen much of Kemper, but I always liked him."

"I know," she nodded, "you were chums at College."

"Oh, hardly that, but we knew each other pretty well. He's a lucky chap
and I hope he has the sense to see it."

"There's no doubt whatever of his sense!" she laughed. Then, growing
suddenly serious, she leaned toward him with her old earnest look. "No
one has ever known