ction, and I, too, am conscious of a certain
flatness in facing the truth."

Cora hardly listened.

"It seems so queer you don't love me," she murmured. "Why don't you love
me, Burt?"

At this they both laughed, and went on presently to the more detailed
consideration of Cora's affairs. She and Lefferts had met the winter
before; she had not liked him at first, prejudiced perhaps by the fact
that he was a poet, and that he pretended to dislike all the things she
cared for, but she had found, almost at once, that he understood more
about the things he hated than most men did about their favorite topics.

"He's really wonderful, Burt," she said. "He understands everything,
every one. Do you know, he told me yesterday that I needn't worry about
you--that you weren't in love with me. Only I did not believe him. He
said: 'What confuses you, my dear, is that Crane is undoubtedly in
love, one sees that clearly enough, but not with you.'"

"He did not just hit it there, though," answered Crane, in a rather
feeble tone. Cora, however, was in a condition of mind in which it was
not difficult to distract her, and she continued without paying any
further attention to the example of Lefferts' extraordinary insight. She
went on to say that she had had no idea that she was in love, until one
day when she found herself speaking of it as if it had always been.
Crane asked about Lefferts' worldly prospects, which turned out to be
extremely dark. Had he a profession? Yes, such a strange one for a
poet--he was an expert statistician, but, Cora sighed, there did not
seem to be a very large demand for his abilities.

Among the many minor responsibilities inherited from his father, Crane
remembered a statistical publication. He immediately offered its
editorship to Lefferts. Cora's answer was to fling her arms about his
neck.

"Oh, Burt," she said, "you really are an angel!"

It was Crane's idea of what would have happened if Mrs. Falkener had
entered at this moment, which she did not, that made him ask how matters
stood in regard to her.

"She doesn't know," answered Cora, "and I don't think she even suspects,
and I'm such a coward I can't make up my mind to tell her. Every time I
see Leonard he asks me if I have, and now he is threatening to do it
himself, and that you know, Burt, would be fatal."

"Cora," said Crane, "I am about to prove that I am no fair weather
friend. With your permission, I will tell your mother."

No per