act, of the
_pueris virginibusque_ school. And that evening, with the bundle under
his arm, he sought Miss Raritan.

The girl glanced at the titles and put the books aside. "When we get in
order at Narragansett," she said, "I wish you would come up."

Had she kissed him, Tristrem could not have revelled more. "There are
any number of hotels," she added, by way of douche.

"Certainly, if you wish it, but--but----"

"Well, but what?"

"I don't know. You see--well, it's this way: You know that I love you,
and you know also that you care for me as for the snows of yester-year.
There is no reason why you should do otherwise. I don't mean to
complain. If I am unable to make you care, the fault is mine. I did
think--h'm--no matter. What I wanted to say is this: there is no reason
why you should care, and yet----. See here; take two slips of paper,
write on one, I will marry you, and, on the other, Put a bullet through
your head, and let me draw. I would take the chance so gladly. But that
chance, of course, you will not give. Why should you, after all? Why
should I give everything I own to the first beggar I meet? But why
should you have any other feeling for me than that which you have? And
yet, sometimes I think you don't understand. Any man you meet could be
more attractive than I, and very easy he would find it to be so; but no
one could care for you more--no one----"

Miss Raritan was sitting opposite to him, her feet crossed, her head
thrown back, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. One arm lay along the back
of the lounge which she occupied, the other was pendant at her side. And
while he still addressed her, she arose with the indolence of a panther,
crossed the room, picked up a miniature from a table, eyed it as though
she had never seen it before and did not particularly care to see it
again, and then, seating herself at the piano, she attacked the _Il
segreto per esser felice_, the brindisi from "Lucrezia Borgia."

In the wonder of her voice Tristrem forgot the discourtesy of the
action. He listened devoutly. And, as he listened, each note was an
electric shock. _Il segreto per esser felice_, indeed! The secret of
happiness was one which she alone of all others in the world could
impart. And, as the measures of the song rose and fell, they brought him
a transient exhilaration like to that which comes of champagne, dowering
him with factitious force wherewith to strive anew. And so it happened
that, when the ulti