her more than the
dozen kisses. Floyd has said in his letter, "I shall keep yours on
interest until I come." And she suddenly hides her blushing face on the
pillow beside the child. What does all this eager tremor and
expectation mean?

"Violet," calls Eugene up the stairway, "come down. Isn't Cecil
asleep?"

She would rather stay there and dream, but she seldom thinks of herself
first. Cecil is sleeping soundly, and she glides down to talk a little,
play a little, and sing a few songs. Listening to her, Eugene begins to
consider himself a consummate fool. He would not marry madame if he
could. If it were all to do over again,--but then he was _not_
prepossessed with Violet when he first saw her, and now it is too late.
He has no high and fine sentiments, he simply recognizes the fact that
she is the wife of another; and though youth may indulge in foolish
fondness, it is generally older and riper natures that are ready for a
plunge in the wild vortex of passion.

Their days pass in simple idyllic fashion. Another party is neglected,
and even a German passed by, to the great astonishment of Marcia. She
has called home several times, but _they_ have been out, not always
together, though she chooses to think so. Violet has spent hours and
hours with Mrs. Latimer, whose great charm is that she talks of Floyd
Grandon, and she is amused with her ready, devoted listener.

Marcia does find her at home one morning.

"I think it a shame that Eugene did not go to the Brades' last night;"
and her voice is thinner, sharper than usual, a sure sign of vexation.
"They had counted on him for the German, and were awfully
disappointed."

"I did not want to go," replies Violet, in a soft, excusing tone.

"I don't see what that had to do with it," is Marcia's short, pointed
comment.

Violet glances up. "Why, yes, he could have gone," she says,
cheerfully. "I told him I did not mind staying alone. I do not
understand Germans, and----"

"You could have looked on," interrupts Marcia. "It seems extremely
disobliging to the Brades, when they have taken the pains to cultivate
you."

"I have never been in company without Mr. Grandon," Violet says, in a
steady tone, though her cheeks are scarlet, "except at your garden
party, and then _he_ asked Eugene to take me."

"Admirable condescension!" returns Marcia, angrily. "But possibly you
may subject yourself quite as much to criticism by staying at home so
closely with a young man. I