f 'The line
forms on the right, gentlemen, on the right!'"

Kenny faced the problem with his fingers in his hair.

"Who's bothering her?" he demanded bluntly.

"The Art Students' League," said Ann demurely, "the Federation of Arts,
National Society of Portrait Painters, Architectural League, Watercolor
Society, Authors' League and the Prince who thinks he's a playwright."

"He's a piece of cheese!" said Kenny in intense disgust. "What did
Joan think of him?"

"She said she didn't like him nearly so well as the art student who
plays a banjo in the orchestra because he needs the money. Peggy knows
him."

"That was wholesome," admitted Kenny. "But I don't think much of him
either. He has absolutely no right when he's playing a banjo
commercially to recognize the girls on the floor. I'll be over to
lunch."

It was a nerve-racking hour for Ann. Kenny, pensive, ate but little.
He seemed very sorry for himself and eyed Joan with melancholy
tenderness. When at last the dreadful subject was broached, Ann
stoutly defended everybody.

Frantic, Kenny pushed back his plate and began to stride around.

"Sit down," said Ann. "You're making everybody nervous. Of course you
don't blame Joan. And of course you can't blame--"

"I'm not blaming anybody," sputtered Kenny. "That club is a hot-bed of
shallow-minded, impressionable, fickle-minded boobs. I can see plainly
that we'll have to be married to-day. To-morrow at the latest."

"Kenny, please!" said Joan and the conflict began.

Finding the year still strongly in her mind, he surrendered with a
sigh, hurt and unhappy, remembering his vow that Joan's happiness
should be the religion of his love.

"Oh, you dear foolish people!" cried Ann in despair. "Why don't you
announce your engagement in the Times and discourage the line once and
for all?"

"Of course!" said Kenny and looked at Joan.

"I shouldn't mind at all," said Joan, coloring.

Whereat Kenny called up the Times office, and the Holbein Club went mad
with delight. Jan, without meaning to, got very drunk and shocked
himself, and Margot made the ring. She did not know why Kenny wanted
the golden circlet barred crosswise like a frail ladder. Nor why he
insisted upon a cluster of wistaria set in amethysts.

Even then misgivings sent him to Ann in a panic of conscience.

"Am I ungenerous?" he demanded. "Perhaps Joan should have had a year
of utter freedom. You know what I mean, Ann. To come and