t trouble is,
how shall I get out of what Tom believes to be true? I pretended so well
that I almost fooled myself into believing that I was doing right. This
morning I know it is not true," said Polly, impatiently.

Eleanor now felt her curiosity rising for she realized she was on the
verge of hearing what had caused Polly's concern. But she knew she must
be circumspect in her replies, or her friend would take alarm and not say
a word.

"Polly, there speaks the born actress. When on the stage, acting in a
play, the artiste is carried away by her own depth of feeling and faith
in the truth of what she is saying or doing. Now, you see, you did the
same and that proves you should study stage-craft instead of interior
decorating." Eleanor spoke in a jocular tone.

Polly smiled at her friend, but she was too preoccupied with her problem
to pay attention to Eleanor--whether she was in earnest or whether she
was speaking in fun.

Suddenly Polly asked: "Nolla, are you engaged to Paul?"

Eleanor was taken off her feet. She never dreamed of having Polly ask her
bluntly about her private interests in any one.

"W-h-y, n-o-o--not ex-actly!" stammered she in reply.

Polly sat and stared at her companion as if to search out the truth. Then
she said: "Have you any idea of being engaged within the next year or
two?"

"Well, now, Poll," returned Eleanor, finding her depth once more, and
treading water to get her breath, "you know how I admire Paul, and you
also know that Paul says he loves me. That was most obvious at Dalky's
party, the night Paul arrived so unexpectedly. But when you speak of
engagements, I must remind you of the law you laid down for me--not to
tie myself to any such entanglement until after we had had our fill of
business. Am I right?"

"Exactly!" sighed Polly. "But that does not go to say that you obeyed my
law. There may be a secret understanding between you and Paul, and that
is what I want to hear about."

"It may be the same sort of a secret understanding as now exists between
you and Tom Latimer," retorted Eleanor, taking a wild chance that such
was the fact.

"Then I pity poor Paul from the bottom of my heart," was Polly's
unexpected reply.

"Paul doesn't seem to think he is in need of any pity," smiled Eleanor,
as she thought of his joy the preceding evening as he escorted her from
the Latimer's apartment to the automobile.

"Well, then it is not the same sort of secret understanding. Now co