not, nor could there be--in Keith's mind--any harm in their relations. Nan
was the woman for him; but that didn't mean that he was never to see
anybody else, or that other women might not--of course in unessential and
superficial ways--answer some of his varied needs.

Mrs. Morrell was skilful at keeping up his interest, and she was equally
skilful in gradually excluding Nan. This was not difficult, for Nan was
secretly bored by the eternal practising, and repelled by Mrs. Morrell's
efforts to be fascinating. She saw them plainly enough, but was at first
merely amused and faintly disgusted, for she was proud enough to believe
absolutely that such crude methods could have no effect on Milton,
overlooking the fact that the crudities of women never appear as plainly to
a man as they do to another woman. For a woman is in the know. At first she
offered one excuse or another, in an attempt to be both polite and
plausible. She much preferred a book at home, or a whole free evening to
work at making her house attractive. Later, Keith got into the habit of
taking her attitude for granted.

"I promised to run over to the Morrells' this evening," he would say, "More
music. Of course you won't care to come. You won't be lonely? I won't be
gone late."

"Of course not," she laughed. "I'm thankful for the chance to get through
with the blue room."

Nevertheless, after a time she began to experience a faint, unreasonable
resentment; and Keith an equally faint, equally unreasonable feeling of
guilt.

Left to itself this situation would, therefore, have righted itself, but