the itching of that shapely
silk and satin foot.

The gas-light from the hall laid a broad orange path to the
steps--Cora and her companion sat just beyond it, his whiteness
gray, and she a pale ethereality in the shadow. She wore an
evening gown that revealed a vague lilac through white, and
shimmered upon her like a vapour. She was very quiet; and there
was a wan sweetness about her, an exhalation of wistfulness. Cora,
in the evening, was more like a rose than ever. She was fragrant
in the dusk. The spell she cast was an Undine's: it was not to be
thought so exquisite a thing as she could last. And who may know
how she managed to say what she did in the silence and darkness?
For it was said--without words, without touch, even without a
look--as plainly as if she had spoken or written the message: "If
I am a rose, I am one to be worn and borne away. Are you the man?"

With the fall of night, the street they faced had become still,
save for an infrequent squawk of irritation on the part of one of
the passing automobiles, gadding for the most part silently, like
fireflies. But after a time a strolling trio of negroes came
singing along the sidewalk.

"In the evening, by the moonlight, you could hear
those banjos ringing;
In the evening, by the moonlight, you could hear
those darkies singing.
How the ole folks would injoy it; they would sit
all night an' lis-sun,
As we sang I-I-N the evening BY-Y-Y the moonlight.'

"Ah, _that_ takes me back!" exclaimed Corliss. "That's as it used
to be. I might be a boy again."

"And I suppose this old house has many memories for you?" said
Cora, softly.

"Not very many. My, old-maid aunt didn't like me overmuch, I
believe; and I wasn't here often. My mother and I lived far down
the street. A big apartment-house stands there now, I noticed as I
was walking out here this afternoon--the `Verema,' it is called,
absurdly enough!"

"Ray Vilas lives there," volunteered Hedrick, not altering his
position.

"Vilas?" said the visitor politely, with a casual recollection
that the name had been once or twice emphasized by the youth at
dinner. "I don't remember Vilas among the old names here."

"It wasn't, I guess," said Hedrick. "Ray Vilas has only been here
about two years. He came from Kentucky."

"A great friend of yours, I suppose."

"He ain't a boy," said Hedrick, and returned to silence without
further explanation.

"How cool and kind the