nd very amusing.

"And a girl ought to be thankful to almost anybody who will
take her out of her monotony.

"I'm afraid you've given me a taste for luxury and amusement.
You _have_ spoiled me I fear. I am certainly an ungrateful
little beast, am I not, to lay the blame on you! But it is
dull, Clive, after working all day to sit every evening
reading alone, or lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling,
waiting for the others to come home.

"If it were not for that darling cat you gave me I'd perish
of sheer solitude. But he is such a comfort, Hafiz; and his
eyes are the bluest blue and his long, winter fur the
snowiest white, and his ruff is wonderful and his tail
magnificent. Also he is _very_ affectionate to me. For which,
with perfect reverence, I venture to thank God.

"Good night, Clive. If you've struggled through this letter
so far you won't mind reading that I am faithfully and always
your friend,
"ATHALIE GREENSLEEVE."

Her letter thoroughly aroused Clive and he was all for going straight
to her--only he couldn't go that evening because he dared not break a
dinner engagement or fail to appear with his mother at the opera. In
fact he was already involved in a mess of social obligations for two
weeks ahead,--not an evening free--and Athalie worked during the day.

It gave him an odd, restless sensation to hear of her going about with
Francis Hargrave--dining alone with him. He felt almost hurt as though
she had done him a personal injustice, yet he knew that it was absurd
for him to resent anything of that sort. His monopoly of her happened
to be one merely because she, at that time, knew no other man of his
sort, and would not go out with any other kind of man.

Why should he expect her to remain eternally isolated except when he
chose to take her out? No young girl could endure that sort of thing
too long. Certainly Athalie was inevitably destined to meet other men,
be admired, admire in her turn, accept invitations. She was unusually
beautiful,--a charming, intelligent, clean-cut, healthy young girl.
She required companionship and amusement; she would be unhuman if she
didn't.

Only--men were men. And safe and sane friendships between men of his
own caste, and girls like Athalie Greensleeve, were rare.

Clive chafed and became restive and morose. In vain he repeated to
himself that what Athalie was doing was perfectly na