e a great singer of you, Beth."

She colored with joy.

"Are you, Mr. Nichols? Are you? Oh, I want to make good--indeed I do--to
learn French and Italian----" And then, with a sharp sigh, "O Lord, if
wishes were horses----!" She was silent again, regarding him wistfully.
"Don't think I'm not grateful. I'm afraid you might. I _am_ grateful.
But--sometimes I wonder what you're doin' it all for, Mr. Nichols. And
whether----"

As she paused again Peter finished for her.

"Whether it wouldn't have been better if I hadn't let you just
remain--er," he grinned, "a peach, let's say? Well, I'll tell you,
Beth," he went on, laying his pipe aside, "I came here, without a
friend, to a strange job in a strange country. I found you. Or rather
_you_ found _me_--lost like a babe in the woods. You made fun of me.
Nobody had ever done that before in my life, but I rather liked it. I
liked your voice too. You were worth helping, you see. And then along
came Shad. I couldn't have him ordering you about, you know--not the way
he did it--if he hadn't any claim on you. So you see, I had a sense of
responsibility for you after that----About you, too----," he added, as
though thinking aloud.

His words trailed off into silence while Beth waited for him to explain
about his sense of responsibility. She wasn't altogether accustomed to
have anybody responsible for her. But as he didn't go on, she spoke.

"You mean that you--that I--that Shad forced me on you?"

"Bless your heart, child--no."

"Then what _did_ you mean?" she insisted.

Peter thought he had a definite idea in his mind about what he felt as
to their relationship. It was altruistic he knew, gentle he was sure,
educational he was positive. But half sleepily he spoke, unaware that
what he said might sound differently to one of Beth's independent mind.

"I mean," he said, "that I wanted to look after you--that I wanted our
friendship to be what it has proved to be--without the flaw of
sentiment. I wouldn't spoil a single hour by any thought of yours or
mine that led us away from the music."

And then, while her brain worked rapidly over this calm negation of his,
"But you can't be unaware, Beth, that you're very lovely."

Now "sentiment" is a word over which woman has a monopoly. It is her
property. She understands its many uses as no mere man can ever hope to
do. The man who tosses it carelessly into the midst of a delicate
situation is courting trouble. Beth perked up her