ying, he excused himself and went to
his rooms. She sat for a time, idly talking with Blatchford; then, as
a servant passed through the hall and she mistook momentarily his
footsteps for those of Avery, she got up suddenly and went upstairs.
It was only after reaching her own rooms that she appreciated that the
meaning of this action was that she shrank from seeing Avery again that
night. But she had been in her rooms only a few minutes when her house
telephone buzzed, and answering it, she found that it was Donald
speaking to her.

"Will you come down for a few minutes, please, Harry?"

She withheld her answer momentarily. Before Eaton had come into her
life, Donald sometimes had called her like this,--especially on those
nights when he had worked late with her father,--and she had gone down
to visit with him for a few minutes as an ending for the day. She had
never allowed these meetings to pass beyond mere companionship; but
to-night she thought of that companionship without pleasure.

"Please, Harry!" he repeated.

Some strangeness in his tone perplexed her.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"In the study."

She went down at once. As he came to the study door to meet her, she
saw that what had perplexed her in his tone was apparently only the
remnant of that irritation he had showed at dinner. He took her hand
and drew her into the study. The lights in the room turned full on and
the opaque curtains drawn closely over the windows told that he had
been working,--or that he wished to appear to have been working,--and
papers scattered on one of the desks, and the wall safe to the right of
the door standing open, confirmed this. But now he led her to the big
chair, and guided her as she seated herself; then he lounged on the
flat-topped desk in front of and close to her and bending over her.

"You don't mind my calling you down, Harry; it is so long since we had
even a few minutes alone together," he pleaded.

"What is it you want, Don?" she asked.

"Only to see you, dea--Harry." He took her hand again; she resisted
and withdrew it. "I can't do any more work to-night, Harry. I find
the correspondence I expected to go over this evening isn't here; your
father has it, I suppose."

"No; I have it, Don."

"You?"

"Yes; Father didn't want you bothered by that work just now. Didn't he
tell you?"

"He told me that, of course, Harry, and that he had asked you to
relieve me as much as you could; he did