edge of a portiere. A look of relief
came to his features, and he came to me.

"Anything wrong?" he asked.

"No, I came to find out whether it is safe to give Mrs. Dupont a cup of
tea?"

"Yes, and anything else she wants. Don't you want to come in the office
and meet some fellows? We are playing penny ante. You'll take a hand,
won't you?"

"Young man," I said, severely, "gambling is frowned upon by the police."

"Well, the sergeant of the precinct is one of us," he replied. "Plays a
mighty good hand."

"Then you have my blessing," I replied, "but I can't accept. I must go
back at once and make the tea. Another time I shall be delighted to lose
my coppers to one of our brave defenders. Good-by and good luck to you!"

I went away, clad with authority to dispense the cup that cheers, and
reflected with regret that Gordon would no longer drop in, as he had
been wont to. All his spare hours he would now spend with Miss Van
Rossum. I supposed that they would sit on a sofa and hold hands, a good
part of the time, unless this occupation be also one of the many
inventions issued from the brains of fervid writers. But why do I keep
on thinking about him? I am beginning to disapprove of him, and he is
drifting away from me. He has crossed a Rubicon and left no bridge for
me to go over. I would give anything to know that he is desperately in
love with Miss Van Rossum. It would exalt him in my eyes. Her wealth
means nothing. True love comes in spite of iron bars or golden ingots.
In his attractive personality and wonderful talent he has fully as much
to offer as the young woman can bestow upon him. The question before me
is whether he is really giving her all he has; his heart as well as his
genius; his faith and passion as well as the solitaire she is wearing. I
hope I am not unjust to him. But whether I am or not, I presume I am now
destined to see little of him. It makes me rather sad to think that one
more of my few golden links of friendship is to be broken or slowly
dissolved.

For a few moments I stood before the outer door, with the latch-key in
my hand, cogitating so deeply that I forgot to fit it in the lock.
Presently, I sighed and went in, making my way up the stairs quite
slowly and heavily, as if a few more years had suddenly piled themselves
up on my head. The ancient stair-carpet looked more than usually
unattractive and the wallpaper more decrepit. The fourth step on the
second flight, ever inclined to com