me
the greatest number of questions about you and the story of your life.
What interest has she in you, I wonder?"

"None," answered Riatt, but added rather quickly, "And what did you think
of Linburne?"

"I couldn't bear him, though I own he's nice looking. But he told
Mrs. Almar a story--I could not help hearing--I never heard such a
story in my life."

"I gather it did not shock Mrs. Almar."

"She knew it already. 'Lee,' she said, 'that story is so old that even my
husband knows it,' and every one laughed."

"I'm afraid you did not enjoy yourself."

"I like Mr. Hickson very much. And I thought Miss Fenimer more beautiful
than before. He was telling me what a wonderful nature she has. He said
he had never seen her out of temper."

"Yes, Hickson's crazy about her," said Riatt casually.

"Dear Max, why do you try to deceive yourself about your own
feeling for her?"

"Deceive myself," he said angrily. "If you knew the truth, my dear
Dolly!" His heart stood still. Deceive himself! What an insulting
phrase. He repressed a strong impulse to propose on the instant to
Dolly. That would show her how indifferent he was to Christine. It would
assure him, too.

Instead he formed a plan to go home with her and her mother, when
they went.

"When are you going back, Dolly?"

"The day after to-morrow."

"Any objections to my going, too?"

"Objections! Max, dear!"

He engaged his ticket at once at the hotel office. Having done so, he
felt tranquil and relieved, and perhaps the least little bit dull. The
clerk assured him he was fortunate to be able to get a berth at such
short notice. "Very fortunate," he agreed and was annoyed at a certain
cold ring in his voice.

The next day, true to his promise to show Christine all attentions that
the public could expect, he sent her a box of flowers, and at four he
stopped for her and they went and took a long walk together, hoping to
meet as many people whom they knew as possible.

"We won't walk in the Park," said Christine. "No one sees you there,
though of course if they do, it makes an impression. But, no; we'll stick
to Fifth Avenue, and study all the windows that have clothes or furniture
in them, as if our minds were entirely taken up with trousseaux and
house-furnishing."

She was true to her word, and not squeamish. Riatt found it rather
amusing to wander at her side, dressing her in imagination in every
garment that the windows so frankly displayed, and answe