at streamed
over her, dropped it deliberately on the floor. Their hands touched for
an instant, but neither spoke. Silences were becoming more frequent
and more delicious. Outside another stray couple had come up and were
experimenting on the piano in the next room. After the usual preliminary
of "chopsticks," one of them started "Babes in the Woods" and a light
tenor carried the words into the den:

"Give me your hand
I'll understand
We're off to slumberland."

Isabelle hummed it softly and trembled as she felt Amory's hand close
over hers.

"Isabelle," he whispered. "You know I'm mad about you. You _do_ give a
darn about me."

"Yes."

"How much do you care--do you like any one better?"

"No." He could scarcely hear her, although he bent so near that he felt
her breath against his cheek.

"Isabelle, I'm going back to college for six long months, and why
shouldn't we--if I could only just have one thing to remember you by--"

"Close the door...." Her voice had just stirred so that he half wondered
whether she had spoken at all. As he swung the door softly shut, the
music seemed quivering just outside.

"Moonlight is bright,
Kiss me good night."

What a wonderful song, she thought--everything was wonderful to-night,
most of all this romantic scene in the den, with their hands clinging
and the inevitable looming charmingly close. The future vista of her
life seemed an unending succession of scenes like this: under moonlight
and pale starlight, and in the backs of warm limousines and in low, cosy
roadsters stopped under sheltering trees--only the boy might change, and
this one was so nice. He took her hand softly. With a sudden movement he
turned it and, holding it to his lips, kissed the palm.

"Isabelle!" His whisper blended in the music, and they seemed to
float nearer together. Her breath came faster. "Can't I kiss you,
Isabelle--Isabelle?" Lips half parted, she turned her head to him in the
dark. Suddenly the ring of voices, the sound of running footsteps surged
toward them. Quick as a flash Amory reached up and turned on the light,
and when the door opened and three boys, the wrathy and dance-craving
Froggy among them, rushed in, he was turning over the magazines on the
table, while she sat without moving, serene and unembarrassed, and even
greeted them with a welcoming smile. But her heart was beating wildly,
and she felt somehow as if she had been deprived.

It was eviden