h you all the time who understands you, some one to drive back
those other thoughts when they come to worry you. It is really a very
good thing for you, dear, that I came out to New York. Mr. Dane is going
to be very disappointed when I tell him that I never saw you before in my
life.... Don't you love the music? Listen to that waltz. That was written
for happy people, Philip. I adore this place. I suppose we shall find
others that we like better, as time goes on, but I shall always think of
this evening. It is the beginning of my task, too, Philip, with you--for
you. What has really happened, dear? I can't realise anything. I feel as
though the gates of some great prison had been thrown wide-open, and
everything there was to long for in life was just there, within reach,
waiting. I am glad, so much gladder than I should have imagined possible.
It's wonderful to have you again. I didn't even feel that I missed you so
much, but I know now what it was that made life so appalling. Tell me, am
I still nice to look at?"

"Of course you are," he assured her. "Can't you understand that by the
way people notice you?"

She strummed upon the table with her fingers. Her whole body seemed to be
moving to the music. She nodded several times.

"I don't want them to notice me, Philip," she murmured. "I want you to
look just for a moment as though you thought me the only person in the
world--as you did once, you know."

He did his best to be responsive, but he was not wholly successful.
Nevertheless, she was tolerant with his shortcomings. They sat there
until nearly three o'clock. It was she at last who rose reluctantly to
her feet.

"I want to go whilst the memory of it all is wonderful," she declared.
"Come. Here's a card with my address on. Drive me home now, please."

He paid his bill and they found a cab. She linked her arm through his,
her head sank a little upon his shoulder. He made no movement. She waited
for a moment, then she leaned back amongst the cushions.

"Philip," she asked quietly, "has this Elizabeth Dalstan been letting you
make love to her?"

"Please don't speak of Miss Dalstan like that," he begged.

"Answer my question," she insisted.

"Miss Dalstan has been very kind to me," he admitted slowly, "wonderfully
kind. If you really want to know, I do care for her."

"More than you did for me?"

"Very much more," he answered bravely, "and in a different fashion."

In the darkness of the cab it seemed t