women would
have accepted them in silence. Not so with Mrs. Lloyd Avalons.

"But you played for Miss Van Osdel, last week," she persisted.

Arlt rose to his feet.

"Yes, I played for Miss Van Osdel, last week, just as I hope to have the
pleasure of playing for her many times more in the future. However, that
is quite a different matter. Miss Van Osdel and I are very old friends,
and it will always be one of my very greatest pleasures to be entirely
at her service." He made a quaint little bow in Sally's direction, and
his face lighted with the friendly, humorous smile she knew so well.
Then he added, "And now I must bid you all a very good afternoon."

He bowed again and walked away, with his simple dignity unruffled to the
last. Society might bless him, or society might ban. Nevertheless, it
was by no means Arlt's intention to turn his art into a species of
lap-dog, to come trotting in at society's call, and then be dismissed to
the outer darkness again, so soon as the round of its tricks was
accomplished. Egotism Arlt had not; but his independence shrank at no
one of the corollaries of his creed of art.

Bobby lingered after the others had gone away.

"I say, Sally," he remarked at length, apparently apropos of nothing in
particular; "how does it happen that you have never married me?"

[Illustration: "'I believe I might as well ask you now'"]

"Probably for the very excellent reason that you have never asked me,"
Sally responded frankly.

With his hands in his pockets, Bobby sauntered across to the sofa where
she was sitting. There he stood contemplating her for a moment. Then he
settled himself at her side.

"Well," he said slowly; "I believe I might as well ask you now."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

"I almost made a whole poem about you," Bobby said to Thayer, one night.
Thayer laughed.

"How far did you get?"

"The last line."

"Then you actually did make one."

Bobby shook his head.

"Oh, no. I only made the next to the last line and the last. Then the
inspiration gave out."

"What was it?" Thayer asked idly.

The mirth left Bobby's face, and he looked up at his companion almost
defiantly.

"Forget the things we cannot,
And face the things we must,"

he said slowly.

The dark red leaped up into Thayer's face, as he looked at Bobby keenly.

"How long have you known it?"

"Since the day I told you they had come home from abroad. You sang _St.
Paul_, that night, you may rem