so cold-blooded an acquiescence, but
he wisely retired from the field. He left the girl silent and crushed,
but with a gleam in her eyes that was not altogether to be concealed.
The story had touched her more deeply than she would willingly confess.
It was something to know that Monty Brewster could do a thing like
that, and would do it for her. The exultant smile which it brought to
her lips could only be made to disappear by reminding herself sharply
of his recent arrogance. Her anger, she found, was a plant which needed
careful cultivation.

It was in a somewhat chastened mood that she started a few days later
for a dinner at the DeMille's. As she entered in her sweeping golden
gown the sight of Monty Brewster at the other end of the room gave her
a flutter at the heart. But it was an agitation that was very carefully
concealed. Brewster was certainly unconscious of it. To him the
position of guest was like a disguise and he was pleased at the
prospect of letting himself go under the mask without responsibility.
But it took on a different color when the butler handed him a card
which signified that he was to take Miss Drew in to dinner. Hastily
seeking out the hostess he endeavored to convey to her the
impossibility of the situation.

"I hope you won't misunderstand me," he said. "But is it too late to
change my place at the table?"

"It isn't conventional, I know, Monty. Society's chief aim is to
separate engaged couples at dinner," said Mrs. Dan with a laugh. "It
would be positively compromising if a man and his wife sat together."

Dinner was announced before Monty could utter another word, and as she
led him over to Barbara she said, "Behold a generous hostess who gives
up the best man in the crowd so that he and some one else may have a
happy time. I leave it to you, Barbara, if that isn't the test of
friendship."

For a moment the two riveted their eyes on the floor. Then the humor of
the situation came to Monty.

"I did not know that we were supposed to do Gibson tableaux to-night,"
he said drily as he proffered his arm.

"I don't understand," and Barbara's curiosity overcame her
determination not to speak.

"Don't you remember the picture of the man who was called upon to take
his late fiancee out to dinner?"

The awful silence with which this remark was received put an end to
further efforts at humor.

The dinner was probably the most painful experience in their lives.
Barbara had come to it so