o get at least a hint of what I would do, if you drove me to it.
Hate is terrible, Anita, but love can be more terrible."

At the Willoughby she let me help her descend from the electric,
waited until I sent it away, walked beside me into the building. My
man, Sanders, had evidently been listening for the elevator; the door
opened without my ringing, and there he was, bowing low. She
acknowledged his welcome with that regard for "appearances" which
training had made instinctive. In the center of my--our--drawing-room
table was a mass of gorgeous roses. "Where did you get 'em?" I asked
him, in an aside.

"The elevator boy's brother, sir," he replied, "works in the florist's
shop just across the street, next to the church. He happened to be
downstairs when I got your message, sir. So I was able to get a few
flowers. I'm sorry, sir, I hadn't a little more time."

"You've done noble," said I, and I shook hands with him warmly.

Anita was greeting those flowers as if they were a friend suddenly
appearing in a time of need. She turned now and beamed on Sanders.
"Thank you," she said; "thank you." And Sanders was hers.

"Anything I can do--ma'am--sir?" asked Sanders.

"Nothing--except send my maid as soon as she comes," she replied.

"I shan't need you," said I.

"Mr. Monson is still here," he said, lingering. "Shall I send him
away, sir, or do you wish to see him?"

"I'll speak to him myself in a moment," I answered.

When Sanders was gone, she seated herself and absently played with the
buttons of her glove.

"Shall I bring Monson?" I asked. "You know, he's my--factotum."

"_I_ do not wish to see him," she answered.

"You do not like him?" said I.

After a brief hesitation she answered, "No."

I restrained a strong impulse to ask her why, for instinct told me she
had some especial reason that somehow concerned me. I said merely:
"Then I shall get rid of him."

"Not on my account," she replied, indifferently. "I care nothing about
him one way or the other."

"He goes at the end of his month," said I.

She was now taking off her gloves. "Before your maid comes," I went
on, "let me explain about the apartment. This room and the two leading
out of it are yours. My own suit is on the other side of our private
hall there."

She colored high, paled. I saw that she did not intend to speak.

I stood awkwardly, waiting for something further to come into my own
head. "Good-night," said I, finally, bowing as if