nd grew until a few more pithy words were
necessary from the orator before silence could be restored.

He made his way to the back of the hall for some water, and then, half
exhausted, yet tingling still from the excitement, dropped into an empty
chair by the side of Miss Wakeman.

"Well done, Billy," she said, giving him a little approving tap with her
fan. "You were just fine." She gave him an upward glance from her large
dark eyes. "Do you know you haven't spoken to me to-night, nor shaken
hands with me?"

"Let us shake hands now," he said, smiling, flushed with success, as he
looked into the eyes of this very pretty woman.

"I shall take off my glove first--such old friends as we are! It must be
a real ceremony."

She laid a soft, white, dimpled hand, covered with glistening rings, in
his outstretched palm, and gazed at him with coquettish plaintiveness.
"It's so _lovely_ to see you again! Have you forgotten the night
you kissed me?"

"I have thought of it daily," he replied, giving her hand a hearty
squeeze. They both laughed, and he took a surreptitious peep at her from
under his eyelids. Marie Wakeman! Yes, truly, the same, and with the
same old tricks. He had been married for nearly fourteen years, his
children were half grown, he had long since given up youthful
friskiness, but she was "at it" still. Why, she had been older than he
when they were boy and girl; she must be for--He gazed at her soft,
rounded, olive cheek, and quenched the thought.

"And you are very happy?" she pursued, with tender solicitude. "Nettie
makes you a perfect wife, I suppose."

"Perfect," he assented gravely.

"And you haven't missed me at all?"

"Can you ask?" It was the way in which all men spoke to Marie Wakeman,
married or single, rich or poor, one with another. He laughed inwardly
at his lapse into the expected tone. "I feel that I really breathe for
the first time in years, now that I'm with you again. But how is it that
you are not married?"

"What, after I had known you?" She gave him a reproachful glance. "And
you were so cruel to me--as soon as you had made your little Nettie
jealous you cared for me no longer. Look what I've declined to!" She
indicated Jim Shore, leaning disconsolately against the cornice, chewing
his moustache. "Now don't give him your place unless you really want to;
well, if you're tired of me already--thank you ever so much, and I
_am_ proud of you to-night, Billy!"

Her lustrous eyes dw