ager and anxious.

"If only," Philip exclaimed, "she were looking for me! She certainly is
looking for some man. I wonder who it can be?"

As suddenly as if he had slapped his face into a wall, he halted in his
steps. Why should he wonder? Why did he not read her mind? Why did he
not KNOW? A waiter was hastening toward him. Philip fixed his mind upon
the waiter, and his eyes as well. Mentally Philip demanded of him: "Of
what are you thinking?"

There was no response. And then, seeing an unlit cigarette hanging
from Philip's lips, the waiter hastily struck a match and proffered
it. Obviously, his mind had worked, first, in observing the half-burned
cigarette; next, in furnishing the necessary match. And of no step in
that mental process had Philip been conscious! The conclusion was only
too apparent. His power was gone. No longer was he a mind reader!

Hastily Philip reviewed the adventures of the morning. As he considered
them, the moral was obvious. The moment he had used his power to his
own advantage, he had lost it. So long as he had exerted it for the
happiness of the two lovers, to save the life of the King, to thwart
the dishonesty of a swindler, he had been all-powerful; but when he
endeavored to bend it to his own uses, it had fled from him. As he stood
abashed and repentant, Helen turned her eyes toward him; and, at the
sight of him, there leaped to them happiness and welcome and complete
content. It was "the look that never was on land or sea," and it was not
necessary to be a mind reader to understand it. Philip sprang toward her
as quickly as a man dodges a taxi-cab.

"I came early," said Helen, "because I wanted to talk to you before the
others arrived." She seemed to be repeating words already rehearsed, to
be following a course of conduct already predetermined. "I want to tell
you," she said, "that I am sorry you are going away. I want to tell you
that I shall miss you very much." She paused and drew a long breath. And
she looked at Philip as if she was begging him to make it easier for her
to go on.

Philip proceeded to make it easier.

"Will you miss me," he asked, "in the Row, where I used to wait among
the trees to see you ride past? Will you miss me at dances, where I used
to hide behind the dowagers to watch you waltzing by? Will you miss me
at night, when you come home by sunrise, and I am not hiding against the
railings of the Carlton Club, just to see you run across the pavement
from you