o, and
Millard said with an effort:

"Well, Phil, I'm going to be kin to you. Congratulate me."

The color fled from Philip's face as he said:

"How's that?"

"Phillida Callender and I are engaged."

"You and Phillida?" said Philip, struggling to collect his wits. "I
expected it." He spoke low and as though some calamity had befallen him.
A moment he stood trying to muster his forces to utter some phrase
proper to the occasion, and then he abruptly said:

"Good-night; don't come out"; and walked away toward the elevator like a
somnambulist doing what he is compelled to by preconception without
making note of his environment. And Millard wondered as he looked after
him.

The next morning Philip came to breakfast so late that even his
indulgent mother had forsaken the table after leaving directions to
"have things kept hot for Mr. Philip, and some fresh coffee made for
him."

When he had eaten a rather slender meal he sought his mother's
sitting-room.

"Aunt Callender called last night, I hear. She must have had something
to say, or she would hardly have persuaded herself to leave her sewing
so long."

"She came to tell me of Phillida's engagement," said Mrs. Gouverneur,
looking at Philip furtively as she spoke.

"I supposed that was it."

"Did you know it, then?"

"Oh, Charley Millard told me last night. These lucky fellows always take
it for granted that you'll rejoice in all their good fortune; they air
their luck before you as though it were your own." He was looking out of
the window at the limited landscape of Washington Square.

"I'm sorry you feel bad about it," said his mother.

Philip was silent.

"I never dreamed that you had any special attachment for Phillida," said
Mrs. Gouverneur.

"What did you think I was made of?" said Philip, turning toward his
mother. "Since she came from Siam I have seen her about every week. Now
consider what a woman she is, and do you wonder that I like her?"

"Why didn't you tell her so?"

"I might if I'd had Charley's brass. But what is there about a critical,
inefficient young man like me, chiefly celebrated for piquant talk and
sarcasm--what is there to recommend me to such a woman as Phillida? If
I'd had Charley's physique--I suppose even Phillida isn't insensible to
his appearance--but look at me. It might have recommended me to her,
though, that in one respect I do resemble St. Paul--my bodily presence
is weak." And he smiled at his joke. "No, mothe