mate note had rung out and the girl's fingers
loitered on the keys, he went over to her with a face so eloquent that
she needed but a glance at it to know what he was seeking to say.

With a gesture coercive as a bit, she lifted one hand from the keys and
stayed his lips. Then, she stood up and faced him. "Tristrem," she
began, "when I first saw you I told you that I was married to my art.
And in an art such as mine there is no divorce. It may be that I shall
go on the stage. After all, why should I not? Is society so alluring
that I should sacrifice for it that which is to me infinitely
preferable? If I have not done so already it is because of my mother.
But should I decide to do so, there are years of study before me yet. In
which case I could not marry, that is self-evident, not only because I
would not marry a man who would suffer me to sing in public--don't
interrupt--but also because--well, you told me that you understood the
possibilities of the human voice, and you must know what the result
would be. But even independent of that, you said a moment ago that I did
not love you. Well, I don't. I don't love you. Tristrem, listen to me. I
don't love you as you would have me. I wish I did. But I like you. I
like you as I can like few other men. Tristrem, except my mother, I have
not a friend in the world. Women never care for me, and men--well, save
in the case of yourself, when their friendship has been worth the
having, it belonged to someone else. Give me yours."

"It will be hard, very hard."

Miss Raritan moved from where she had been standing and glanced at the
clock. "You must go now," she said, "but promise that you will try."

She held her hand to him, and Tristrem raised it to his lips and kissed
the wrist. "You might as well ask me to increase my stature," he
answered. And presently he dropped the hand which he held and left the
house.

It was a perfect night. The moon hung like a yellow feather in the sky,
and in the air was a balm that might have come from fields of tamaris
and of thyme. The street itself was quiet, and as Tristrem walked on,
something of the enchantment of the hour fell upon him. On leaving Miss
Raritan, he had been irritated at himself. It seemed to him that when
with her he was at his worst; that he stood before her dumb for love,
awkward, embarrassed, and ineffectual of speech. It seemed to him that
he lacked the tact of other men, and that, could she see him as he
really was wh