iled at the decoration remaining on Eileen's
rug. The third evening it was gone, so that she knew Eileen was either
in her room or had been there. She did not meet her sister until
dinnertime. She was prepared to watch Eileen, to study her closely. She
was not prepared to admire her, but in her heart she almost did that
very thing. Eileen had practiced subterfuges so long, she was so
accomplished, that it would have taken an expert to distinguish reality
from subterfuge. She entered the dining room humming a gay tune. She was
carefully dressed and appealingly beautiful. She blew a kiss to Linda
and waved gaily to Katy.

"I was rather afraid," she said lightly, "that I might find you two in
mourning when I got back. I never stayed so long before, did I? Seemed
as if every friend I had made special demand on my time all at once.
Hope you haven't been dull without me."

"Oh, no," said Linda quietly. "Being away at school all day, of course
I wouldn't know whether you were at home or not, and I have grown so
accustomed to spending my evenings alone that I don't rely on you for
entertainment at any time."

"In other words," said Eileen, "it doesn't make any difference to you
where I am."

"Not so far as enjoying your company is concerned," said Linda.
"Otherwise, of course it makes a difference. I hope you had a happy
time."

"Oh, I always have a happy time," answered Eileen lightly. "I certainly
have the best friends."

"That's your good fortune," answered Linda.

At the close of the meal Linda sat waiting. Eileen gave Katy
instructions to have things ready for a midnight lunch for her and John
Gilman and then, humming her tune again, she left the dining room and
went upstairs. Linda stood looking after her.

"Now or never," she said at last. "I have no business to let
her meet John until I have recovered my self-respect. But the Lord help
me to do the thing decently!"

So she followed Eileen up the stairway. She tapped at the door, and
without waiting to hear whether she was invited or not, opened it and
stepped inside. Eileen was sitting before the window, a big box of candy
beside her, a magazine in her fingers.

Evidently she intended to keep her temper in case the coming interview
threatened to become painful.

"I was half expecting you," she said, "you silly hothead. I found the
cheque I wrote you when I got home this afternoon. That was a foolish
thing to do. Why did you tear it up? If it were too la