"No."

"You say it very curtly, Jim."

"Is that all you desired to say to me?"

"Yes.... I was a little troubled.... Something else went wrong,
too;--everything seemed to go wrong that night.... I thought
perhaps--if I could hear your voice--if you'd say something kind----"

"Had you nothing else to tell me, Palla?"

"No.... What?"

"Then you haven't changed your attitude?"

"Toward you? I don't expect to----"

"You know what I mean!"

"Oh. But, Jim, we can't discuss _that_ over the telephone."

"I suppose not.... Is anything wrong with you, Palla? Your voice
sounds so tired----"

"Does it? I don't know why. Tell me, please, what did you do that
unhappy night?"

"I went home."

"Directly?"

"Yes."

"I telephoned your house about twelve, and was informed you were not
at home."

"They thought I was asleep. I'm sorry, Palla----"

"I shouldn't have telephoned so late," she interrupted, "I'm afraid
that it was your mother who answered; and if it was, I received the
snub I deserved!"

"Nonsense! It wasn't meant that way----"

"I'm afraid it was, Jim. It's quite all right, though. I won't do it
again.... Am I to see you soon?"

"No, not for a while----"

"Are you so busy?"

"There's no use in my going to you, Palla."

"Why?"

"Because I'm in love with you," he said bluntly, "and I'm trying to
get over it."

"I thought we were _friends_, too."

After a lengthy silence: "You're right," he said, "we are."

She heard his quick, deep breath like a sigh. "Shall I come
to-night?"

"I'm expecting some people, Jim--women who desire to establish a
Combat Club in Chicago, and they have come on here to consult me."

"To-morrow night, then?"

"Please."

"Will you be alone?"

"I expect to be."

Once more he said: "Palla, is anything worrying you? Are you ill? Is
Ilse all right?"

There was a pause, then Palla's voice, resolutely tranquil.
"Everything is all right in the world as long as you are kind to me,
Jim. When you're not, things darken and become queer----"

"Palla!"

"Yes."

"Listen! This is to serve notice on you. I'm going to make a fight for
you."

After a silence, he heard her sweet, uncertain laughter.

"Jim?"

"Yes, dear."

"I suppose it would shock you if I made a fight for--_you_!"

He took it as a jest and laughed at her perverse humour. But what
she had meant she herself scarcely realised; and she turned away
from the telephone, conscious of a vague exciteme