ss what I've been up to."

"Making love to Miss Stevens," replied she. "And very foolish it is of
you. She's got a steady head in that way."

"You're mighty right," said he heartily. "And I admire her for that
more than for anything else. I'd trust her anywhere."

"You're paying yourself a high compliment," laughed Cyrilla.

"How's that?" inquired he. "You're too subtle for me. I'm a bit slow."

Mrs. Brindley decided against explaining. It was not wise to risk
raising an unjust doubt in the mind of a man who fancied that a woman
who resisted him would be adamant to every other man. "Then I've got
to guess again?" said she.

"I've been asking her to marry me," said Stanley, who could contain it
no longer. "Mrs. B. was released from me to-day by the court in
Providence."

"But SHE'S not free," said Cyrilla, a little severely.

Stanley looked confused, finally said: "Yes, she is. It's a queer
story. Don't say anything. I can't explain. I know I can trust you
to keep a close mouth."

"Minding my own business is my one supreme talent," said Cyrilla.

"She hasn't accepted me--in so many words," pursued Baird, "but I've
hopes that it'll come out all right."

"Naturally," commented Cyrilla dryly.

"I know I'm not--not objectionable to her. And how I do love her!" He
settled himself at his ease. "I can't believe it's really me. I never
thought I'd marry--just for love. Did you?"

"You're very self-indulgent," said Cyrilla.

"You mean I'm marrying her because I can't get her any other way.
There's where you're wrong, Mrs. Brindley. I'm marrying her because I
don't want her any other way. That's why I know it's love. I didn't
think I was capable of it. Of course, I've been rather strong after
the ladies all my life. You know how it is with men."

"I do," said Mrs. Brindley.

"No, you don't either," retorted he. "You're one of those cold,
stand-me-off women who can't comprehend the nature of man."

"As you please," said she. In her eyes there was a gleam that more
than suggested a possibility of some man--some man she might
fancy--seeing an amazingly different Cyrilla Brindley.

"I may say I was daft about pretty women," continued Baird. "I never
read an item about a pretty woman in the papers, or saw a picture of a
pretty woman that I didn't wish I knew her--well. Can you imagine
that?" laughed he.

"Commonplace," said Cyrilla. "All men are so. That's why the papers
always describ