han
Christopher.

"I haven't. Of course you were angry with me when I seemed so
disagreeable and unkind; any girl would have been," replied Chris,
forgetting how very unreasonable her anger had seemed only five minutes
ago. But five minutes can make such a difference--sometimes.

Elisabeth cheerfully caught at this straw of comfort; she was always
ready to take a lenient view of her own shortcomings. If Christopher had
been wise he would not have encouraged such leniency; but who is wise
and in love at the same time?

"Of course it did seem rather unkind of you," she admitted; "you see, I
thought you had thrown me over just for the sake of some tiresome
business arrangement, and that you didn't care about me and my
disappointment a bit."

A little quiver crept into Christopher's voice. "I think you might have
known me better than that."

"Yes, I might; in fact, I ought to have done," agreed Elisabeth with
some truth. "But why didn't you tell me the real reason?"

"Because I thought it might worry and frighten you. Not that there
really was anything to be frightened about," Christopher hastened to
add; "but you might have imagined things, and been upset; you have such
a tremendous imagination, you know."

"I'm afraid I have; and it sometimes imagines vain things at your
expense, Chris dear."

"How did you find me out?" Chris asked.

"Alan told me about the cholera scare at Burlingham, and I guessed the
rest."

"Then Alan was an ass. What business had he to go frightening you, I
should like to know, with a lot of fiction that is just trumped up to
sell the papers?"

"But, Chris, I want you to understand how sorry I am that I was so vile
to you. I really was vile, wasn't I?" Elisabeth was the type of woman
for whom the confessional will always have its fascinations.

"You were distinctly down on me, I must confess; but you needn't worry
about that now."

"And you quite forgive me?"

"As I said before, I've nothing to forgive. You were perfectly right to
be annoyed with a man who appeared to be so careless and inconsiderate;
but I'm glad you've found out that I wasn't quite as selfish as you
thought."

Elisabeth stroked his coat sleeve affectionately. "You are not selfish
at all, Chris; you're simply the nicest, thoughtfullest, most unselfish
person in the world; and I'm utterly wretched because I was so unkind to
you."

"Don't be wretched, there's a dear! Your wretchedness is the one thing I
can't a