told no one. The day after I reached here I sent him a note, giving
him my new address.

His answer was short and stiff. He was leaving town on a business
trip and would see me on his return, he wrote, and as I read what was
not written between what was I was glad he was going away. It would
give him time to cool off. I am beyond Selwyn's comprehension. We
should not be friends, we are so apart in many matters. But
compatible people must find life dull. Selwyn and I are never dull.

When he first called I was out, and last night he called again. As
Mrs. Mundy, with his coat and hat, closed the door behind her, he
held out his hand.

"Well?" He looked at me, but in his eyes was no smiling.

"Well?" I shook hands and smiled.

For a half-moment we said nothing, and frowningly he turned away.
Always he radiated the security that comes of fixed position, a past
without challenge, a future provided for; but tonight I was conscious
only of the quiet excellence of his clothes, his physical well-being,
the unescapableness of his eyes, and the cut of his chin. He is a
most determined person. So am I--which perhaps accounts for our
rather stormy friendship.

"Don't you think I have a very nice home?" I took my seat in a corner
of the big chintz-covered sofa in front of the fire and close to the
long table with its lighted lamp and books and magazines, and
motioned him to sit down. "I'm entirely fixed. I hope you like this