ity of taste and the mutual attraction of intelligence!

Then, the memory of what his sister had said drove the smile from his
face and he straightened up impatiently. Love! What unfortunate
hallucination had obsessed Nina to divine what did not exist?--what need
not exist? How could a woman like his sister fall into such obvious
error; how could she mistake such transparent innocence, such visible
freedom from motive in this young girl's pure friendship for himself?

And, as for him, he had never thought of Eileen--he could not bring
himself to think of her so materially or sentimentally. For, although he
now understood that he had never known what love, might be--its coarser
mask, infatuation, he had learned to see through; and, as that is all he
had ever known concerning love, the very hint of it had astonished and
repelled him, as though the mere suggestion had been a rudeness offered
to this delicate and delicious friendship blossoming into his life--a
life he had lately thought so barren and laid waste.

No, his sister was mistaken; but her mistake must not disturb the
blossoming of this unstained flower. Sufficient that Eileen and he
disdainfully ignore the trite interpretation those outside might offer
them unasked; sufficient that their confidence in one another remain
without motive other than the happiness of unembarrassed people who find
a pleasure in sharing an intelligent curiosity concerning men and things
and the world about them.

Thinking of these matters, lying back there in his desk chair, he
suddenly remembered that Gerald had come in. They had scarcely seen one
another since that unhappy meeting in the Stuyvesant Club; and now,
remembering what he had written to Eileen, he emerged with a start from
his contented dreaming, sobered by the prospect of seeking Gerald.

For a moment or two he hesitated; but he had said in his letter that he
was going to do it; and now he rose, looked around for his pipe, found
it, filled and lighted it, and, throwing on his dressing-gown, went out
into the corridor, tying the tasselled cords around his waist as he
walked.

His first knock remaining unanswered, he knocked more sharply. Then he
heard from within the muffled creak of a bed, heavy steps across the
floor. The door opened with a jerk; Gerald stood there, eyes swollen,
hair in disorder, his collar crushed, and the white evening tie
unknotted and dangling over his soiled shirt-front.

"Hello," said Selwy