his own pleasure.

Finally, however, he rose and put photographs, rose, and card away.

"I've not allowed myself to yield to it," he said (which was a whopper)
"till I was sure she was what I could always love. Now I shall do my
best to make her love me."

CHAPTER XLIV.

A GOOD DAY.

The next day it was raining torrents, but despite this, and to the utter
neglect of his law business, Peter drove up-town immediately after
lunch, to the house in Fifty-seventh Street. He asked for Watts, but
while he was waiting for the return of the servant, he heard a light
foot-step, and turning, he found Leonore fussing over some flowers. At
the same moment she became conscious of his presence.

"Good-day," said Peter.

"It isn't a good day at all," said Leonore, in a disconsolate voice,
holding out her hand nevertheless.

"Why not?"

"It's a horrid day, and I'm in disgrace."

"For what?"

"For misbehaving last night. Both mamma and madame say I did very wrong.
I never thought I couldn't be real friends with you." The little lips
were trembling slightly.

Peter felt a great temptation to say something strong. "Why can't the
women let such an innocent child alone?" he thought to himself. Aloud he
said, "If any wrong was done, which I don't think, it was my fault. Can
I do anything?"

"I don't believe so," said Leonore, with a slight unsteadiness in her
voice. "They say that men will always monopolize a girl if she will
allow it, and that a really well-mannered one won't permit it for a
moment."

Peter longed to take her in his arms and lay the little downcast head
against his shoulder, but he had to be content with saying: "I am so
sorry they blame you. If I could only save you from it." He evidently
said it in a comforting voice, for the head was raised a trifle.

"You see," said Leonore, "I've always been very particular with men, but
with you it seemed different. Yet they both say I stayed too long
upstairs, and were dreadfully shocked about the photographs. They said I
ought to treat you like other men. Don't you think you are different?"

Yes. Peter thought he was very different.

"Mr. D'Alloi will see you in the library," announced the footman at this
point.

Peter turned to go, but in leaving he said: "Is there any pleasure or
service I can do, to make up for the trouble I've caused you?"

Leonore put her head on one side, and looked a little less
grief-stricken. "May I save that up?" she asked.