ots of people. Diana knows every one, and her money and position and
her beauty make her much in demand."

"Isn't it funny she has never married?"

"Funny"--sharply; "no, it's not funny. It's tragic."

"Why?"

"Because such women as Diana should marry. She has all the qualities for
a wife and mother--she is wise and true and good, and there aren't many
women like that in the world----"

"Oh," the girl drew her breath quickly, "I'm not like that--I'm little
and childish, and I'm not wise."

He saw what he had done and tried to make amends.

"You are--you, Bettina."

"Well," Bettina crossed the hearth-rug, and sat down on a stool at his
feet, "she's awfully old, isn't she?"

"My dear, she's years younger than I."

"Oh, you," she laughed and laid her cheek against his hand. "Your heart
is just my age, isn't it?"

He moved restlessly, then stood up, with Diana's note still in his hand.

"You'd better write and tell her you'll come," he said. "I'll take you
over to-morrow in my car."

She surveyed him wistfully. "Oh, must you really go?"

"Yes. There's the old man with the pneumonia, and the girl with
appendicitis, and the new baby at the hospital--I can't neglect them,
Bettina."

"When we are married," she asked, tremulously, "will all these sick
people keep you from me----"

"A doctor belongs to his patients, my dear----"

"I suppose he does," pensively, "but I shall be terribly jealous of your
old men with the pneumonia, and your girls with appendicitis. I shall
want you."

If she had hoped to please him by her frank avowal she failed, for he
stood looking at her with an expression which made her say hastily,
"Don't you want me to want you?"

"I was wondering if I could make you happy."

She gave a little musical note of protest. "I am the happiest girl in
the world, except--oh, if mother could only know."

With a quick change of mood, she was sobbing in his arms. The masses of
her hair lay soft against his lips, one slim white hand crept to touch
his cheek. He imprisoned the small hand in his. "We must have a ring for
this soon," and she shifted her head so that she could look up at him
from under wet lashes. "Oh," she said, "shall I?"

"Of course. What shall it be?"

"Anything but pearls; they mean tears, you know."

With a quick throb of the heart, he remembered that Diana always wore
pearls. Was there something after all in the old superstition, and were
the rest of Diana's days to be d