of him," she said thoughtfully. "He was a good man.
At least every one says so. I'm afraid I don't know much about good men
myself. Most of those whom I have met have been the other sort."

The faint bitterness of her tone troubled him. There was deliberation,
too, in her words. Instinctively he knew that this was no idle speech.

"You have asked me," he reminded her, "a good many questions. I wonder
if I might be permitted to ask you one?"

"Why not? I can reserve the privilege of not answering it," she
remarked.

"People call you a fortunate woman," he said. "You are very rich, you
have a splendid home, the choice of your own friends, a certain
reputation--forgive me if I quote from a society paper--as a brilliant
and popular woman of the world. Yours is rather a unique position, isn't
it? I wonder," he added, "whether you are satisfied with what you get
out of life!"

"I get all that there is to be got," she answered, a slight hardness
creeping into her tone. "It mayn't be much, but it amuses
me--sometimes."

He shook his head.

"There is more to be got out of life," he said, "than a little
amusement."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"How about yourself? You haven't exactly the appearance of a perfectly
contented being."

"I'm hideously dissatisfied," he admitted promptly. "Something seems to
have gone wrong with me--I seem to have become a looker-on at life. I
want to take a hand, and I can't. There doesn't seem to be any place for
me. Of course, it's only a phase," he continued. "I shall settle down
into something presently. But it's rather beastly while it lasts."

She looked at him, her eyes soft with laughter. Somehow his confession
seemed to have delighted her.

"I'm glad you are human enough to have phases," she declared. "I was
beginning to be afraid that you might turn out to be just an ordinary
superior person. Perhaps you are also human enough to drink tea and eat
muffins. Try, won't you?"

They were in front of her door, which flew immediately open. She either
took his consent for granted, or chose not to risk his refusal, for she
went on ahead, and his faint protests were unheard. His hat and stick
passed into the care of an elderly person in plain black clothes; with
scarcely an effort at resistance, he found himself following her down
the hall. She stopped before a small wrought-iron gate, which a footman
at once threw open.

"It makes one feel as though one were in a hotel, doesn't i