ve another name, put in by my Irish father to conciliate a German
uncle of my mother's. Augustus! It's rather a mess. What shall I put on
my professional brassplate? If I put P. Augustus Byrne nobody's fooled.
They know my wretched first name is Peter."

"Or Patrick."

"I rather like Patrick--if I thought it might pass as Patrick! Patrick
has possibilities. The diminutive is Pat, and that's not bad. But
Peter!"

"Do you know," Harmony confessed half shyly, "I like Peter as a name."

"Peter it shall be, then. I go down to posterity and fame as Peter
Byrne. The rest doesn't amount to much, but I want you to know it, since
you have been good enough to accept me on faith. I'm here alone, from
a little town in eastern Ohio; worked my way through a coeducational
college in the West and escaped unmarried; did two years in a drygoods
store until, by saving and working in my vacations, I got through
medical college and tried general practice. Didn't like it--always
wanted to do surgery. A little legacy from the German uncle, trying to
atone for the 'Augustus,' gave me enough money to come here. I've got a
chance with the Days--surgeons, you know--when I go back, if I can hang
on long enough. That's all. Here's a traveler's check with my name on
it, to vouch for the truth of this thrilling narrative. Gaze on it with
awe; there are only a few of them left!"

Harmony was as delicately strung, as vibratingly responsive as the
strings of her own violin, and under the even lightness of his tone she
felt many things that met a response in her--loneliness and struggle,
and the ever-present anxiety about money, grim determination, hope and
fear, and even occasional despair. He was still young, but there were
lines in his face and a hint of gray in his hair. Even had he been less
frank, she would have known soon enough--the dingy little pension, the
shabby clothes--

She held out her hand.

"Thank you for telling me," she said simply. "I think I understand very
well because--it's music with me: violin. And my friends have gone, so I
am alone, too."

He leaned his elbows on the table and looked out over the crowd without
seeing it.

"It's curious, isn't it?" he said. "Here we are, you and I, meeting
in the center of Europe, both lonely as the mischief, both working our
heads off for an idea that may never pan out! Why aren't you at home
to-night, eating a civilized beefsteak and running upstairs to get ready
for a nice young ma