go on," urged
Carroll.

"Well, I was only going to say," she explained, "that leaving the girl
alone never did the man any good unless he left her alone willingly.
If she's sure he still cares, it's just the same to her where he is. He
might as well stay on in London as go to South Africa. It won't help
him any. The difference comes when she finds he has stopped caring. Why,
look at Reggie. He tried that. He went away for ever so long, but
he kept writing me from wherever he went, so that he was perfectly
miserable--and I went on enjoying myself. Then when he came back, he
tried going about with his old friends again. He used to come to the
theatre with them--oh, with such nice girls--but he always stood in the
back of the box and yawned and scowled--so I knew. And, anyway, he'd
always spoil it all by leaving them and waiting at the stage entrance
for me. But one day he got tired of the way I treated him and went
off on a bicycle tour with Lady Hacksher's girls and some men from his
regiment, and he was gone three weeks and never sent me even a line; and
I got so scared; I couldn't sleep, and I stood it for three days more,
and then I wired him to come back or I'd jump off London Bridge; and he
came back that very night from Edinburgh on the express, and I was so
glad to see him that I got confused, and in the general excitement I
promised to marry him, so that's how it was with us."

"Yes," said the American, without enthusiasm; "but then I still care,
and Helen knows I care."

"Doesn't she ever fancy that you might care for some one else? You have
a lot of friends, you know."

"Yes, but she knows they are just that--friends," said the American.

Miss Cavendish stood up to go, and arranged her veil before the mirror
above the fireplace.

"I come here very often to tea," she said.

"It's very kind of you," said Carroll. He was at the open window,
looking down into the street for a cab.

"Well, no one knows I am engaged to Reggie," continued Miss Cavendish,
"except you and Reggie, and he isn't so sure. SHE doesn't know it."

"Well?" said Carroll.

Miss Cavendish smiled a mischievous kindly smile at him from the mirror.

"Well?" she repeated, mockingly. Carroll stared at her and laughed.
After a pause he said: "It's like a plot in a comedy. But I'm afraid I'm
too serious for play-acting."

"Yes, it is serious," said Miss Cavendish. She seated herself again
and regarded the American thoughtfully. "You are t