ve
said.

"It isn't revolutionised," said Jeff. He turned upon Choate brusquely.
"It's exactly the same."

"They say it's revolutionised," Miss Amabel offered anxiously.

"Who says so?" he countered, now turning on her.

"The papers," she told him. "You didn't write me about it. I asked you
all sorts of questions and you wouldn't say a word."

"But you wrote me," said Jeff affectionately, "every week. I got so used
to your letters I sha'n't be able to do without them; I shall have to
see you every day."

"Of course we're going to see each other," she said. "And there's such a
lot you can do."

She looked so earnestly entreating that Choate, who sat not far from
her, gave a murmured: "Ah, Miss Amabel!" In his mind the
half-despairing, wholly loving thought had been: "Good old girl! You're
spending yourself and all your money, but it's no use--no use."

She was going on with a perfect clarity of purpose.

"Oh, you know, Jeff can do more for us than anybody else."

"What do you want done for you?" he inquired.

His habit of direct attack gave Lydia a shiver. She was sure people
couldn't like it, and she was exceedingly anxious for him to be liked.
Miss Amabel turned to Farvie.

"You see," she said, "Addington is waking up. I didn't dwell very much
on it," she added, now to Jeff, "when I wrote you, because I thought
you'd like best to think of it as it was. But now--"

"Now I'm out," said Jeff brutally, "you find me equal to it."

"I think," said Miss Amabel, "you can do so much for us." Nothing
troubled her governed calm. It might almost be that, having looked from
high places into deep ones, no abyss could dizzy her. "Weedon Moore
feels as I do."

"Weedon Moore?" Jeffrey repeated, in a surprised and most uncordial
tone. He looked at Choate.

"Yes," said Choate, as if he confirmed not only the question but Jeff's
inner feeling, "he's here. He's practising law, and besides that he
edits the _Argosy_."

"Owns it, too, I think," said Farvie. "They told me so at the
news-stand."

"Well," said Choate pointedly, "it's said Miss Amabel owns it."

"Then," said Jeff, including her abruptly, "you've the whip-hand. You
can get Moore out of it. What's he in it for anyway? Did you have to
take him over with the business?"

Miss Amabel was plainly grieved.

"Now why should you want to turn him out of it?" she asked, really of
Choate who had started the attack. "Mr. Moore is a very able young man,
of the high