think of nothing
else. Ursula, I'm mad about her--mad!"

She threw back her head, looked at him admiringly. Never had she so
utterly worshiped this wonderful, powerful brother of hers. He was in
love--really--madly in love--at last. So he was perfect! "How long do
you think it will hold, Fred?" she said, all sympathy.

"God knows!"

"Yet--caring for her you can go on and marry another woman!"

He looked at his sister cynically. "You wouldn't have me marry _her_,
would you?"

"Of course not," protested she hastily. Her passion for romance did not
carry her to that idiocy. "You couldn't. She's a sort of working
girl--isn't she?--anyhow, that class. No, you couldn't marry her. But
how can you marry another woman?"

"How could I give up Josephine?--and give her up probably to Bob
Culver?"

Ursula nodded understandingly. "But--what are you going to do?"

"How should I know? Perhaps break it off when I marry--if you can call
it breaking off, when there's nothing to break but--me."

"You don't mean--" she cried, stopping when her tone had carried her
meaning.

He laughed. "Yes--that's the kind of damn fool I've been."

"You must have let her see how crazy you were about her."

"Was anyone ever able to hide that sort of insanity?"

Ursula gazed wonderingly at him, drew a long breath. "You!" she
exclaimed. "Of all men--you!"

"Let's go down."

"She must be a deep one--dangerous," said Ursula, furious against the
woman who was daring to resist her matchless brother. "Fred, I'm wild to
see her. Maybe I'd see something that'd help cure you."

"You keep out of it," he replied, curtly but not with ill humor.

"It can't last long."

"It'd do for me, if it did."

"The marriage will settle everything," said Ursula with confidence.

"It's got to," said he grimly.

XI

The next day or the next but one Dorothy telephoned him. He often called
her up on one pretext or another, or frankly for no reason at all beyond
the overwhelming desire to hear her voice. But she had never before
"disturbed" him. He had again and again assured her that he would not
regard himself as "disturbed," no matter what he might be doing. She
would not have it so. As he was always watching for some faint sign that
she was really interested in him, this call gave him a thrill of hope--a
specimen of the minor absurdities of those days of extravagant folly.

"Are you coming over to-day?" she asked.

"Right away, if you wish."