vitable, Anthony, a little
grayer, perhaps, a little more worn and worried, took up life where he
had left off before Diana came home from Europe.

He had seen nothing, of late, of Justin, except as he had glimpsed him,
now and then, in the air.

But on the morning on which Bettina and Sophie had watched the flight
from their porch he came upon the young aviator, near the sheds,
standing in the midst of an eager group of young folks, adored by the
girls, envied by the boys.

Amid the clamor of voices he caught the question, "Are you going up
again this afternoon?"

"Yes."

Then, over their heads, Justin saw Anthony.

"Bring Betty Dolce up this afternoon," he called, "and I'll show you
through the shops. There are four ships beside mine in the sheds, and
they'll be sent out to-morrow. You and she may never have a chance to
see so many together."

Anthony agreed, and called up Bettina.

She assented eagerly. To-day, then, Justin should see her rings. He
would ask for an explanation. She would tell him,--and he would
understand. When he knew that she belonged to Anthony he would forget
that he had wanted to be anything but her friend, and things would be as
they had been before.

So, knowing nothing of the hearts of men, she argued in her innocence.

When she saw Justin, she felt that even through her gloves he must see
the rings. But his eyes were on her face, and she burned red beneath his
glance.

On an impulse he had asked her. If Anthony brought her, he should see
her, talk to her. That, for the moment, would give his heart respite
from the pain which gnawed it.

In the dimness of the great sheds Bettina flitted silently like a white
moth from place to place. She left the conversation to Justin and to
Anthony. When Justin made explanations she seemed to listen, but she did
not look up.

As a matter of fact, she heard not a word. Her mind was on her rings.
She began to take off her gloves, slowly; dreading, yet craving the
moment, when Justin should look at her hands.

But he was still explaining to Anthony: "These pontoons do the trick. An
aeroplane simply flies. But the hydro-aeroplanes fly and swim, and
that's what makes them so safe when there's water to cross."

As he touched the delicate wires of the framework they gave forth a
humming noise. "When you're up in the air," he said, "it sounds like the
crash of chords."

Bettina's gloves were off now. The big diamonds on her left hand seemed
t