couch, "and even these roses aren't fresh."

"Well, they're sweet anyway, poor things," she returned, gathering them
into her lap, while her hands caressed the half-opened petals. "It was
like you, Ben, when you did remember, to bring me the whole shopful."

Breaking one from the long stem, she fastened it in place of the violets
in the cloud of lace on her bosom.

"Pink suits me better, after all," she remarked gayly; "and now you must
let Bradley come, and Jessy and I will go to the theatre."

"I suppose he'll have to come," I said moodily, "but I'll be up earlier
to-morrow, Sally, if I wreck the bank in order to do it."

All the next day I kept the importance of fulfilling this promise in my
mind, and at five o'clock, I abruptly broke off a business appointment
to rush breathlessly home in the hope of finding Sally ready to walk or
to drive. As I turned the corner, however, I saw, to my disappointment,
that several riding horses were waiting under the young maples beside
the pavement, and when I entered the house, I heard the merry flutelike
tones of Bonny Page from the long drawing-room, where Sally was serving
tea.

For a minute the unconquerable shyness I always felt in the presence of
women held me, rooted in silence, on the threshold. Then, "Is that you,
Ben?" floated to me in Sally's voice, and pushing the curtains aside, I
entered the room and crossed to the little group gathered before the
fire. In the midst of it, I saw the tall, almost boyish figure of Bonny
Page, and the sight of her gallant air and her brilliant, vivacious
smile aroused in me instantly the oppressive self-consciousness of our
first meeting. I remembered suddenly that I had dressed carelessly in
the morning, that I had tied my cravat in a hurry, that my coat fitted
me badly and I had neglected to send it back. All the innumerable
details of life--the little things I despised or overlooked--swarmed,
like stinging gnats, into my thoughts while I stood there.

"You're just in time for tea, Ben," said Sally; "it's a pity you don't
drink it."

"And you're just in time for a scolding," remarked Bonny. "Do you know,
if I had a husband who wouldn't ride with me, I'd gallop off the first
time I went hunting with another man."

"You'd better start, Ben. It wouldn't take you three days to follow
Bonny over a gate," said Ned Marshall, one of her many lovers, eager, I
detected at once, to appear intimate and friendly. He was a fine,
strong, a