king off his hat with a little
flourish.

"Hang that fellow!" Vandermere muttered, as he looked at Lois, and saw
the change in her. "Why do you let him talk to you, dear? You don't
like him. I am sure that you do not. Why do you allow him to worry
you?"

"I think," Lois answered, "that I do like him. Oh, I must like him,
Maurice!"

"Yes?" he answered.

"Don't let us talk about him. He has gone away now. Come with me to
the other end of the Park. Let us hurry...."

Saton walked on until he saw a certain mauve parasol raised a little
over one of the seats. A moment afterwards, hat in hand, he was
standing before Pauline.

"Has he come?" she asked, as he bent over her fingers.

Saton's face clouded.

"Yes!" he answered. "He came last night. To tell you the truth, he has
just gone away in a temper. I do not know whether he will return to
the house or not."

"Why?" she asked quickly.

Saton laughed to cover his annoyance.

"He does not approve of the luxury of my surroundings," he answered.
"He declined to write at my desk, or to sit in my room."

"I don't wonder at it," she answered. "You know how he worships
simplicity."

"Simplicity!" Saton exclaimed. "You should see the place where he
writes himself. There is no carpet upon the floor, a block of wood for
a writing-table, a penny bottle of ink, and a gnawed and bitten
penholder only an inch or two long."

Pauline nodded.

"I can understand it," she said. "I can understand, too, how your
rooms would affect him. You should have thought of that. If he has
gone away altogether, how will you be able to finish your work?"

"I must do without him," Saton answered.

Pauline looked at him critically, dispassionately.

"I do not believe that you can do without him," she said. "You are
losing your hold upon your work. I have noticed it for weeks. Don't
you think that you are frittering away a great deal of your time and
thoughts? Don't you think that the very small things of life, things
that are not worth counting, have absorbed a good deal of your
attention lately?"

He was annoyed, and yet flattered that she should speak to him so
intimately.

"It may be so," he admitted. "And yet, do you know why I have chosen
to mix a little more with my fellows?"

"No!" she answered. "I do not know why."

"It is because I must," he said, lowering his tone. "It is because I
must see something of you."

The lace of her parasol drooped a little. Her face was hidd