There　were　several　at　the　apartment　for　tea；　among　them　Cullan；　an　amateur　violinist　and　critic　on　music　whom　she　especially　liked。　　For；　instead　of　the　dreamy；　romantic　character　his　large　brown　eyes　and　sensitive　features　suggested；　he　revealed　in　talk　and　actions　a　boyish　gayetyfree；　be　it　said；　from　boyish　silliness　that　was　most　infectious。　　His　was　one　of　those　souls　that　put　us　in　the　mood　to　laugh　at　all　seriousness；　to　forget　all　else　in　the　supreme　fact　of　the　reality　of　existence。　　He　made　her　forget　that　dayforget　until　Keith's　answering　telegram　interrupted：　　‘‘Next　Monday　afternoon。''
  A　week　less　a　day　away！　　She　shrank　and　trembled　at　the　prospect　of　relying　upon　herself　alone　for　six　long　days。　　Every　prop　had　been　taken　away　from　her。　Even　the　dubious　prop　of　the　strange；　unsatisfactory　Keith。　　For　had　he　not　failed　her？　　She　had　said；　‘‘must''　and　‘‘at　once''；　and　he　had　responded　with　three　words　of　curt　refusal。
  After　dinner　Stanley　unexpectedly　appeared。　　He　hardly　waited　for　the　necessary　formalities　of　the　greeting　before　he　said　to　Mrs。　Brindley：　　‘‘I　want　to　see　Mildred　alone。　　I　know　you　won't　mind；　Mrs。　Brindley。　It's　very　important。''　　He　laughed　nervously　but　cheerfully。　‘‘And　in　a　few　minutes　I'll　call　you　in。　　I　think　I'll　have　something　interesting　to　tell　you。''
  Mrs。　Brindley　laughed。　　With　her　cigarette　in　one　hand　and　her　cup　of　after…dinner　coffee　in　the　other；　she　moved　toward　the　door；　saying　gayly　to　Mildred：
  ‘‘I'll　be　in　the　next　room。　　If　you　scream　I　shall　hear。　　So　don't　be　alarmed。''
  Stanley　closed　the　door；　turned　beaming　upon　Mildred。　　Said　he：　　‘‘Here's　my　news。　　My　missus　has　got　her　divorce。''
  Mildred　started　up。
  ‘‘Yes；　the　real　thing；''　he　assured　her。　　‘‘Of　course　I　knew　what　was　doing。　　But　I　kept　mumdidn't　want　to　say　anything　to　you　till　I　could　say　everything。　Mildred；　I'm　free。　　We　can　be　married　to…morrow；　if　you　will。''
  ‘‘Then　you　know　about　me？''　said　she；　confused。
  ‘‘On　the　way　I　stopped　in　to　see　Keith。　　He　told　me　about　that　skunktold　me　you　were　free；　too。''
  Mildred　slowly　sat　down。　　Her　elbows　rested　upon　the　table。　　There　was　her　bare　forearm；　slender　and　round；　and　her　long；　graceful　fingers　lay　against　her　cheek。　　The　light　from　above　reflected　charmingly　from　the　soft　waves　and　curves　of　her　hair。　　‘‘You're　lovelysimply　lovely！''　cried　Stanley。　　‘‘Mildred　darlingyou　WILL　marry　me；　won't　you？　　You　can　go　right　on　with　the　career；　if　you　like。　　In　fact；　I'd　rather　you　would；　for　I'm　frightfully　proud　of　your　voice。　　And　I've　changed　a　lot　since　I　became　sincerely　interested　in　you。　　The　other　sort　of　life　and　people　don't　amuse　me　any　more。　　Mildred；　say　you'll　marry　me。　　I'll　make　you　as　happy　as　the　days　are　long。''
  She　moved　slightly。　　Her　hand　dropped　to　the　table。
  ‘‘I　guess　I　came　down　on　you　too　suddenly；''　said　he。　　‘‘You　look　a　bit　dazed。''
  ‘‘No；　I'm　not　dazed；''　replied　she。
  ‘‘I'll　call　Mrs。　Brindley　in；　and　we'll　all　three　talk　it　over。''
  ‘‘Please　don't；''　said　she。　　‘‘I've　got　to　think　it　out　for　myself。''
  ‘‘I　know　there　isn't　anyone　else；''　he　went　on。　　‘‘So；　I'm　suredead　sure；　Mildred；　that　I　can　teach　you　to　love　me。''
  She　looked　at　him　pleadingly。　　‘‘I　don't　have　to　answer　right　away？''
  ‘‘Certainly　not；''　laughed　he。　　‘‘But　why　shouldn't　you？　　What　is　there　against　our　getting　married？　Nothing。　　And　everything　for　it。　　Our　marriage　will　straighten　out　all　thethe　little　difficulties；　and　you　can　go　ahead　with　the　singing　and　not　bother　about　money；　or　what　people　might　say；　or　any　of　those　things。''
  ‘‘II've　got　to　think　about　it；　Stanley；''　she　said　gently。　　‘‘I　want　to　do　the　decent　thing　by　you　and　by　myself。''
  ‘‘You're　afraid　I'll　interfere　in　the　careerwon't　want　you　to　go　on？　　Mildred；　I　swear　I'm''
  ‘‘It　isn't　that；''　she　interrupted；　her　color　high。　‘‘The　truth　is''　she　faltered；　came　to　a　full　stop　cried；　‘‘Oh；　I　can't　talk　about　it　to…night。''
  ‘‘To…morrow？''　he　suggested。
  ‘‘Idon't　know；''　she　stammered。　　‘‘Perhaps　to…　morrow。　　But　it　may　be　two　or　three　days。''
  Stanley　looked　crestfallen。　　‘‘That　hurts；　Mildred；''
  he　said。　　‘‘I　was　SO　full　of　it；　so　anxious　to　be　entirely　happy；　and　I　thought　you'd　fall　right　in　with　it。　Something　to　do　with　money？　　You're　horribly　sensitive　about　money；　dear。　　I　like　that　in　you；　of　course。　Not　many　women　would　have　been　as　square；　would　have　taken　as　littleand　worked　hardand　thought　and　cared　about　nothing　but　making　good　　By　Jove；　it's　no　wonder　I'm　stark　crazy　about　YOU！''
  She　was　flushed　and　trembling。　　‘‘Don't；''　she　pleaded。　　‘‘You're　beating　me　down　into　the　dust。　　I　I'm''　　She　started　up。　　‘‘I　can't　talk　to…night。　I　might　say　things　I'd　be　　I　can't　talk　about　it。　　I　must''
  She　pressed　her　lips　together　and　fled　through　the　hall　to　her　own　room；　to　shut　and　lock　herself　in。　　He　stared　in　amazement。　　When　he　heard　the　distant　sound　of　the　turning　key　he　dropped　to　a　chair　again　and　laughed。　　Certainly　women　were　queer　creatures　always　doing　what　one　didn't　expect。　　Still；　in　the　end　well；　a　sensible　woman　knew　a　good　chance　to　marry　and　took　it。　　There　was　no　doubt　a　good　deal　of　pretense　in　Mildred's　delicacy　as　to　money　mattersbut　a　devilish　creditable　sort　of　pretense。　　He　liked　the　ladylike；　‘‘nice''　pretenses；　of　women　of　the　right　sort　liked　them　when　they　fooled　him；　liked　them　when　they　only　half　fooled　him。
  Presently　he　knocked　on　the　door　of　the　little　library；　opened　it　when　permission　came　in　Cyrilla's　voice。　　She　was　reading　the　evening　paperhe　did　not　see　the　glasses　she　hastily　thrust　into　a　drawer。　　In　that　soft　light　she　looked　a　scant　thirty；　handsome；　but　for　his　taste　too　intellectual　of　type　to　be　attractiveexcept　as　a　friend。
  ‘‘Well；''　said　he；　as　he　lit　a　cigarette　and　dropped　the　match　into　the　big　copper　ash…bowl；　‘‘I'll　bet　you　can't　guess　what　I've　been　up　to。''
  ‘‘Making　love　to　Miss　Stevens；''　replied　she。　　‘‘And　very　foolish　it　is　of　you。　　She's　got　a　steady　head　in　that　way。''
  ‘‘You're　mighty　right；''　said　he　heartily。　　‘‘And　I　admire　her　for　that　more　than　for　anything　else。　　I'd　trust　her　anywhere。''
  ‘‘You're　paying　yourself　a　high　compliment；''　laughed　Cyrilla。
  ‘‘How's　that？''　inquired　he。　　‘‘You're　too　subtle　for　me。　　I'm　a　bit　slow。''
  Mrs。　Brindley　decided　against　explaining。　　It　was　not　wise　to　risk　raising　an　unjust　doubt　in　the　mind　of　a　man　who　fancied　that　a　woman　who　resisted　him　would　be　adamant　to　every　other　man。　　‘‘Then　I've　got　to　guess　again？''　said　she。
  ‘‘I've　been　asking　her　to　marry　me；''　said　Stanley；　who　could　contain　it　no　longer。　　‘‘Mrs。　B。　was　released　from　me　to…day　by　the　court　in　Providence。''
  ‘‘But　SHE'S　not　free；''　said　Cyrilla；　a　little　severely。
  Stanley　looked　confused；　finally　said：　　‘‘Yes；　she　is。　It's　a　queer　story。　　Don't　say　anything。　　I　can't　explain。　　I　know　I　can　trust　you　to　keep　a　close　mouth。''
  ‘‘Minding　my　own　business　is　my　one　supreme　talent；''　said　Cyrilla。
  ‘‘She　hasn't　accepted　mein　so　many　words；''　pursued　Baird；　‘‘but　I've　hopes　that　it'll　come　out　all　right。''
  ‘‘Naturally；''　commented　Cyrilla　dryly。
  ‘‘I　know　I'm　notnot　objectionable　to　her。　　And　how　I　do　love　her！''　　He　settled　himself　at　his　ease。　‘‘I　can't　believe　it's　really　me。　　I　never　thought　I'd　marryjust　for　love。　　Did　you？''
  ‘‘You're　very　self…indulgent；''　said　Cyrilla。
  ‘‘You　mean　I'm　marrying　her　because　I　can't　get　her　any　other　way。　　There's　where　you're　wrong；　Mrs。　Brindley。　　I'm　marrying　her　because　I　don't　want　her　any　other　way。　　That's　why　I　know　it's　love。　　I　didn't　think　I　was　capable　of　it。　　Of　course；　I've　been　rather　strong　after　the　ladies　all　my　life。　　You　know　how　it　is　with　men。''
  ‘‘I　do；''　said　Mrs。　Brindley。
  ‘‘No；　you　don't　either；''　retorted　he。　　‘‘You're　one　of　those　cold；　stand…me…off　women　who　can't　comprehend　the　nature　of　man。''
  ‘‘As　you　please；''　said　she。　　In　her　eyes　there　was　a　gleam　that　more　than　suggested　a　possibility　of　some　mansome　man　she　might　fancyseeing　an　amazingly　different　Cyrilla　Brindley。
  ‘‘I　may　say　I　was　daft　about　pretty　women；''　continued　Baird。　　‘‘I　never　read　an　item　about　a　pretty　woman　in　the　papers；　or　saw　a　picture　of　a　pretty　woman　that　I　didn't　wish　I　knew　herwell。　　Can　you　imagine　that？''　laughed　he。
  ‘‘Commonplace；''　said　Cyrilla。　　‘‘All　men　are　so。　That's　why　the　papers　always　describe　the　woman　as　pretty　and　why　the　pictures　are　published。''
  ‘‘Really？　　Yes；　I　suppose　so。''　　Baird　looked　chagrined。　　‘‘Anyhow；　here　I　am；　all　for　one　woman。　And　why？　　I　can't　explain　it　to　myself。　　She's　pretty；　lovely；　entrancing　sometimes。　　She　has　charm；　grace；　sweetness。　　She　dresses　well　and　carries　herself　with　a　kind　of　sweet　haughtiness。　　She　looks　as　if　she　knew　a　lotand　nothing　bad。　　Do　you　know；　I　can't　imagine　her　having　been　married　to　that　beast！　　I've　tried　to　imagine　it。　　I　simply　can't。''
  ‘‘I　shouldn't　try　if　I　were　you；''　said　Mrs。　Brindley。
  ‘‘But　I　was　talking　about　why　I　love　her。　　Does　this　bore　you？''
  ‘‘A　little；''　laughed　Cyrilla。　　‘‘I'd　rather　hear　some　man　talking　about　MY　charms。　　But　go　on。　　You　are　amusing；　in　a　way。''
  ‘‘I'll　wager　I　am。　　You　never　thought　I'd　be　caught？　I　believed　I　was　immunevaccinated　against　it。　I　thought　I　knew　all　the　tricks　and