ou, but I wouldn't feel right to go puttin' you
to all that trouble. Just as much obliged, but I--I've got a letter to
write, you see."

Mrs. Dunn bore his refusal bravely.

"Very well," she said, "but Caroline _must_ come with me. I told Malcolm
I should bring her."

"Sure! Sartin! Caroline can go, of course."

But Caroline also declined. Having misjudged her guardian in the matter
of the Moriarty family, she was in a repentant mood, and had marked that
day on her calendar as one of self-sacrifice.

"No, Captain Warren," she said, "I shall not go unless you do."

"Then the captain will come, of course," declared Mrs. Dunn, with
decision. "I'm sure he will not be so selfish as to deprive me--and
Malcolm--of your company."

So, because he did not wish to appear selfish, Captain Elisha admitted
that his letter might be written later in the afternoon, accepted the
invitation, and braced his spirit for further martyrdom.

It was not as bad as he expected. The Dunns occupied a small,
brown-stone house on Fifth Avenue, somewhat old-fashioned, but eminently
respectable. The paintings and bronzes were as numerous as those in the
Warren apartment, and if the taste shown in their selection was not that
of Rodgers Warren, the connoisseur, they made quite as much show, and
the effect upon Captain Elisha was the same. The various mortgages on
the property were not visible, and the tradesmen's bills were securely
locked in Mrs. Dunn's desk.

The luncheon itself was elaborate, and there was a butler whose majestic
dignity and importance made even Edwards seem plebeian by comparison.

Malcolm was at home when they arrived, irreproachably dressed and
languidly non-effusive, as usual. Captain Elisha, as he often said,
did not "set much store" by clothes; but there was something about this
young man which always made him conscious that his own trousers were a
little too short, or his boots too heavy, or something. "I wouldn't
_wear_ a necktie like his," he wrote Abbie, after his first meeting with
Malcolm, "but blessed if I don't wish I could _if_ I would!"

Caroline, in the course of conversation during the luncheon, mentioned
the Moriartys and their sorrow. The captain tried to head her off and
to change the subject, but with little success. He was uncomfortable
and kept glancing under his brows at Malcolm, with whom, under the
circumstances, he could not help sympathizing to an extent. But his
sympathy was wasted. The youn