y. She is musical, and the Henshaws
are good enough to ask us there often together. You will meet her,
doubtless, now, yourself. She is frequently at the Henshaw home."

"Hm-m." Calderwell still eyed his host shrewdly. "Then you'll give me a
clear field, eh?"

"Certainly." Arkwright's eyes met his friend's gaze without swerving.

"All right. However, I suppose you'll tell me, as I did you, once, that
a right of way in such a case doesn't mean a thoroughfare for the party
interested. If my memory serves me, I gave you right of way in Paris to
win the affections of a certain elusive Miss Billy here in Boston, if
you could. But I see you didn't seem to improve your opportunities," he
finished teasingly.

Arkwright stooped, of a sudden, to pick up a bit of paper from the
floor.

"No," he said quietly. "I didn't seem to improve my opportunities." This
time he did not meet Calderwell's eyes.

The good-byes had been said when Calderwell turned abruptly at the door.

"Oh, I say, I suppose you're going to that devil's carnival at Jordan
Hall to-morrow night."

"Devil's carnival! You don't mean--Cyril Henshaw's piano recital!"

"Sure I do," grinned Calderwell, unabashed. "And I'll warrant it'll be
a devil's carnival, too. Isn't Mr. Cyril Henshaw going to play his own
music? Oh, I know I'm hopeless, from your standpoint, but I can't help
it. I like mine with some go in it, and a tune that you can find without
hunting for it. And I don't like lost spirits gone mad that wail and
shriek through ten perfectly good minutes, and then die with a gasping
moan whose home is the tombs. However, you're going, I take it."

"Of course I am," laughed the other. "You couldn't hire Alice to miss
one shriek of those spirits. Besides, I rather like them myself, you
know."

"Yes, I suppose you do. You're brought up on it--in your business. But
me for the 'Merry Widow' and even the hoary 'Jingle Bells' every time!
However, I'm going to be there--out of respect to the poor fellow's
family. And, by the way, that's another thing that bowled me
over--Cyril's marriage. Why, Cyril hates women!"

"Not all women--we'll hope," smiled Arkwright. "Do you know his wife?"

"Not much. I used to see her a little at Billy's. Music teacher, wasn't
she? Then she's the same sort, I suppose."

"But she isn't," laughed Arkwright. "Oh, she taught music, but that
was only because of necessity, I take it. She's domestic through and
through, with an overwhel