hand in my
arm. "And it's a good dinner, too," she went on; "the terrapin is
perfect. I sent into the country for the game, and the man from
Washington came down with the decorations and the ices. Best of all, I
made the salad myself, so be sure to eat it. We'll begin to be gay now,
shan't we? Are you sure we have money enough for a ball?"

"We've money enough for anything that you want, Sally."

"Then I'll spend it--but oh! Ben, promise me you won't mention stocks
to-night until the women have left the table."

"I'll promise you, and keep it, too. I don't believe I ever introduced a
subject in my life to any woman but you."

"I'm glad, at least, there's one subject you didn't introduce to any
other."

Then the door-bell rang, and we hurried into the drawing-room in time to
receive Governor Blenner and the General, who arrived together.

"I almost got a fall on your pavement, Ben," said the General, "it's
beginning to sleet. You'd better have some sawdust down."

It took me a few minutes to order the sawdust, and when I returned, the
other guests were already in the room, and Sally was waiting to go in to
dinner on the arm of Governor Blenner, a slim, nervous-looking man, with
a long iron-grey mustache. I took in Mrs. Tyler, a handsome widow, with
a young face and snow-white hair, and we were no sooner seated than she
began to tell me a story she had heard about me that morning.

"Carry James told me she gave her little boy a penny and asked him what
he meant to do with it. 'Ath Mithter Starr to thurn it into, a
quarther,' he replied."

"Oh, he thinks that easy now, but he'll find out differently some day,"
I returned.

She nodded brightly, with the interested, animated manner of a woman who
realises that the burden of conversation lies, not on the man's
shoulders, but on hers. While she ate her soup I knew that her alert
mind was working over the subject which she intended to introduce with
the next course. From the other end of the table Sally's eyes were
raised to mine over the basket of roses and lilies. Jessy was listening
to George Bolingbroke, who was telling a story about the races, while
his eyes rested on Sally, with a dumb, pained look that made me suddenly
feel very sorry for him. I knew that he still loved her, but until I saw
that look in his eyes I had never understood what the loss of her must
have meant in his life. Suppose I had lost her, and he had won, and I
had sat and stared at her acr