nt evening's debate only to
see them become abstracted and monosyllabic directly you appear.'

'You can't blame me for that, Henry.'

'Yes, I do. You deliberately seek to interest them. I've seen you at
it. You spare no pains or powder to gain your object. Don't dare to
deny it.'

Chastened, I replied meekly: 'Dear Henry, I love my
fellow-creatures--if they haven't beards,' I added hastily. 'After
all, doesn't the Scripture command it?'

'But you don't love William.'

'The Scripture says nothing at all about William,' I replied decidedly.
'I--er--tolerate him. What is this you tell me about something having
happened to him?'

'He's growing peculiar.'

'_More_ peculiar, I suppose you mean?'

'His manner is erratic and changed. It isn't another invention,
because when he is inventing he is merely monosyllabic, with spasms of
muttering and an increased tendency to knock things over. Now he's
altogether different. It's the trend of his conversation that puzzles
me. He talks of love.'

'Love and William,' I remarked, 'are as incompatible as acids and
alkalis. In what way does he touch on the subject? With bitterness or
curiosity?

'Both, I should say. For one thing he is most 'anxious to know what
are the effects of unrequited affection, and if the results can be
serious. Seems strange, doesn't it?'

'It's passing strange, Henry.'

'You don't think he's fallen in love with you, Netta?'

'What makes you suggest he's fallen in love with me?'

'Because he comes in contact with no other woman beyond you and his
landlady, who, I understand, is over sixty and weighs fifteen stone--so
it must be you if it's anybody.' (This is a Scotsman's way of paying a
compliment; if you can follow the workings of his mind up to the source
of the idea you will see he means well.)

'That William should fall in love seems incredible--and entirely
unnecessary,' I commented. 'There must be some other explanation of
his manner. As he's coming to dinner to-night, I'll watch and see if I
can find anything unusually strange about him.'

When William made his appearance, therefore, I observed him intently.
Surely enough I was struck by the fact that he was changed in some
subtle way. He looked dejected. Of course it was impossible to see
much of his expression, owing to his face being almost entirely
obliterated with hair, but what was visible was extremely sad.

Then a strange thing happened. As soon as we were