night."

He took her outstretched hand, laughing; the usual little friendly shake
followed; then she turned gaily away, leaving him standing before the
whitening ashes.

He thought the fire was dead; but when he turned out the lamp an hour
later, under the ashes embers glowed in the darkness of the winter
morning.

CHAPTER IV

MID-LENT

"Mid-Lent, and the Enemy grins," remarked Selwyn as he started for
church with Nina and the children. Austin, knee-deep in a dozen Sunday
supplements, refused to stir; poor little Eileen was now convalescent
from grippe, but still unsteady on her legs; her maid had taken the
grippe, and now moaned all day: "_Mon dieu! Mon dieu! Che fais mourir!_"

Boots Lansing called to see Eileen, but she wouldn't come down, saying
her nose was too pink. Drina entertained Boots, and then Selwyn returned
and talked army talk with him until tea was served. Drina poured tea
very prettily; Nina had driven Austin to vespers. The family dined at
seven so Drina could sit up; special treat on account of Boots's
presence at table. Gerald was expected, but did not come.

The next morning, Selwyn went downtown at the usual hour and found
Gerald, pale and shaky, hanging over his desk and trying to dictate
letters to an uncomfortable stenographer.

So he dismissed the abashed girl for the moment, closed the door, and
sat down beside the young man.

"Go home, Gerald" he said with decision; "when Neergard comes in I'll
tell him you are not well. And, old fellow, don't ever come near the
office again when you're in this condition."

"I'm a perfect fool," faltered the boy, his voice trembling; "I don't
really care for that sort of thing, either; but you know how it is in
that set--"

"What set?"

"Oh, the Fanes--the Ruthv--" He stammered himself into silence.

"I see. What happened last night?"

"The usual; two tables full of it. There was a wheel, too. . . . I had
no intention--but you know yourself how it parches your throat--the
jollying and laughing and excitement. . . . I forgot all about what
you--what we talked over. . . . I'm ashamed and sorry; but I can stay
here and attend to things, of course--"

"I don't want Neergard to see you," repeated Selwyn.

"W-why," stammered the boy, "do I look as rocky as that?"

"Yes. See here, you are not afraid of me, are you?"

"No--"

"You don't think I'm one of those long-faced, blue-nosed butters-in, do
you? You have confidence in me, haven