nnection with this whole situation is."

"The connection of any old friend who does not care to see Miss Fenimer
neglected and humiliated," answered Linburne, all the more hotly because
he knew it was an awkward question.

Perhaps the young poet had not been so wrong in attaching the name
of Helen to Miss Fenimer, for she sat now as calmly interested in
the conflict developing before her, as Helen when she sat on the
walls of Troy and designated the Greek heroes for the amusement of
her newer friends.

"May I ask, Mr. Riatt, what rights in the matter you consider that you
have?" Linburne pursued.

For Riatt, too, the question was an awkward one, but he had his answer
ready. "The rights," he said, "of a man who certainly was once engaged to
Miss Fenimer, and who came East ignorant that the engagement was already
at an end."

Christine laughed. "Very neatly put," she said.

"Neatly put," exclaimed Linburne. "You talk as if we were playing a
game."

"You have the reputation of playing all games well, my dear Lee," she
returned. The obvious fact that she was enjoying the interview, made both
men eager to end it--but, unfortunately, they wished to end it in
diametrically opposite ways.

"Christine," said Linburne, "will you ask Mr. Riatt to be so kind as to
let me have ten minutes alone with you?"

Riatt spoke to her also. "I will do exactly as you say," he said, "but
you understand that if I go now, I shall not come back."

Christine smiled. "Is that a threat or a promise?" she asked, the
sweetness of her smile almost taking away the sting of her words.

Seeing that she hesitated, Riatt went on: "Since I have come more than a
thousand miles to see you, don't you think you might suggest to Mr.
Linburne that he let me have my visit undisturbed?"

There was a long and rather terrible pause, terrible that is to the two
men. Christine probably enjoyed every second of it. There was nothing in
Linburne's experience of life to make him think that any woman whom he
had honored with his preference was likely to prefer another man to
himself. So the pause was terrible to him, not because he doubted what
the climax would be, but because he felt his dignity insulted by even an
appearance of hesitation. Max, on the other hand, was still a good deal
in doubt as to her ultimate intentions.

It was to him, finally, that she spoke.

"Max," she said, "do you remember that while we were staying at the
Usshers' we composed a c