each other better. I do love you so much, but we don't get on. To-night I meant to make things better, and I have only made them a thousand times worse. No, no; I won't come in now. You are tired, and so am I. But won't you just believe that I did n't come to be horrid? I came to be nice."

"You are always nice, my darling,” he answered, with his instinctive polite responsiveness, taking her in his arms. But if his pretty speech was automatic, his kiss and his strain of her to his heart seemed to her real. She went down-stairs comforted.

D

CHAPTER VII

MR. ALDEN DREAMS

ENYS made it his rule never to ruffle

Maurice's tranquility just before or after a meal, or at bedtime. He maintained that the delicate nervous organization of an artist might be irreparably injured by any disturbance of his digestion or his sleep. And though experience testified that nothing could upset Maurice's excellent habits, still it amused his keeper to invent a code of exemplary little rules and obey them. To hygienic scruples, then, Maurice attributed his comrade's taciturnity on their way home from the `reception. Next morning he expected a flow of conversation from Denys, who liked as much as any woman to "talk it over."

To his amused surprise, an unaccountable interdict seemed to have been laid upon the subject. Denys made laboriously polite conversation about trifles, and balanced with exaggerated acumen the clauses of a new business agreement. At rehearsal he sat dumb, to

the astonishment and relief of Hirt, who was accustomed, during these hours of storm and stress, to expect from him a frenzy of suggestions too admirable to be ignored and too troublesome to be followed. During the evening he was ostentatiously engaged in correspondence, while Maurice lay on the divan chuckling over "The Disentanglers."

It was Maurice who, next day, broke a silence which seemed to have become almost sullen.

"Denny, what are you worriting about?" he asked, laying an affectionate hand on his friend's shoulder. "I can't make you out. The only appearance in society was all right, was n't it? Mrs. Fanning is charming, and how well that little girl plays! She is the sort of American girl that makes the women of all other nations seem awkward and slow. She's as pretty as red shoes, too. Her musical gift is rather gilding refined gold. She could do without it. But she is n't a bit spoiled. She is easy to talk to, she understands what you don't say, and she 's warm-hearted. It is n't all on the surface, either. The better you know her, the better she 'll pan out. The man that gets her gets a prize. Great occasion, on the whole, was n't it?"

"Very satisfactory," answered Denys, without looking up from his newspaper. Lifting his expressive eyebrows, Maurice sauntered off to the piano.

Denys mused. Without doubt, this was fine, hearty speech-a little too frank and hearty, one might demur, for lover's praise. Yet he knew so well Maurice's uncivilized directness that it seemed quite like him to fall in love without thought of concealment or embarrassment. Although, for all his candor, Denys could not, even after thirty-six hours of brooding, quite picture himself inquiring the boy's intentions, in the heavy-father manner, yet when he saw the tenor sitting idle before the keyboard, his eyes fixed on vacancy for ten consecutive minutes, he felt that it deserved the name of portent. Maurice thinking!

For two distressful nights had vague misgivings haunted Denys's troubled sleep and waking hours. By daylight he could see the absurdity of supposing that, after two meetings, either Maurice or Margery would have fallen in love with the other. Yet he could not forget Margery's face as she praised Tolna, nor their evident mutual understanding. He assured himself stoutly that they were making

friends for his sake. But if they were attracted ever so slightly, it was imperative that the girl should learn at once the truth about Tolna. He knew that his nerves were overstrung. He perceived the wisdom of silence, and thereupon he spoke:

"For a man who affects to despise the sex, it strikes me that you 're uncommon complimentary, Maurice!"

Maurice laughed. "So that's its name? I saw that you had got up a brand-new grievance, Denny. I don't affect to despise the sex, mine ancient. I don't even despise it. Like all sensible men, I hold that it's made up of women and not of angels. Personally, I prefer that distribution. But the few specimens you 've allowed me to approach hitherto have n't seemed necessary to my happiness: Last night, you see, youth and beauty happened to have brains and breeding, too. Of course I was a foredoomed victim. You 've protected me from that fatal combination up to this time. Alas! Denny, 'the shafts at random sent found mark the archer little meant." "

Against his will, Denys blundered on:

66

Do you mean it, Maurice? Have you met your fate?"

“I wonder! I'm not an expert. Some of