ld be spared any deeper personal interest. It was Lynda's
magnificent steadfastness that now appealed to Truedale. With the
passing of his own season of madness, he looked upon this calm serenity
of her character with deepest admiration.

"The best any man should hope for," he admitted--turning, as he thought,
his back upon his yearning--"any man who has played the fool as I have,
is the sympathetic friendship of a good woman. What right has a man to
fall from what he knows a woman holds highest, and then look to her to
change her ideals to fit his pattern?"

Arriving at this conclusion, Truedale wrapped the tattered shreds of his
self-respect about him and accepted, as best he could, the prospect of
Lynda's adjustment to the future.

Brace and Lynda did not return in time to see Truedale that night. At
twelve, with a resigned sigh, he put away his play and went to his
lonely rooms in the tall apartment farther uptown. His dog was waiting
for him with the reproachful look in his faithful eyes that reminded
Truedale that the poor beast had not had an outing for twenty-four
hours.

"Come on, old fellow," he said, "better late than never," and the two
descended to the street. They walked sedately for an hour. The dog
longed to gambol; he was young enough to associate outdoors with
license; but being a friend as well as a dog, he felt that this was
rather a time for close comradeship, so he pattered along at his
master's heels and once in a while pushed his cold nose into the limp
hand swinging by Truedale's side. "Thank God!" Conning thought,
reaching down to pat the sleek head, "I can keep you without--confession!"

For three days and nights Truedale stayed away from the old home.
Business was his excuse--he offered it in the form of a note and a bunch
of violets. Lynda telephoned on the second day and asked him if he were
quite well. The tone of her voice made him decide to see her at once.

"May I come to dinner to-night, Lyn?" he asked.

"Sorry, Con, but I must dine with some people who have bought a hideous
house and want me to get them out of the scrape by remodelling the
inside. They're awfully rich and impossible--it's a sort of duty to the
public, you know."

"To-morrow then, Lyn?"

"Yes, indeed. Only Brace will be dining with the Morrells; by the way,
she's a dear, Con."

The next night was terrifically stormy--one of those spring storms that
sweep everything before them. The bubbles danced on the pav