n from his mother for dinner to-morrow night,
and a pleasant suggestion that he and she wander up Broadway again and
look in windows, after his mother's dinner.

They talked, while they dined, of the possibility of the California
move, and Wolf afterward went down to the furnace. When the fire was
banked for the night, he watched the last of the dinner clearance, and
they went across the cold dark strip of land between their house and a
neighbour's, to play three exciting rubbers of bridge.

And at eleven Wolf was asleep, and Norma reading again, or trying to
read. But her blood was racing, and her head was spinning, and before
she slept she brought out all her memories of the afternoon. Chris's
words rang in her heart again, and the glances that had accompanied
them unrolled before her eyes like some long pageant that was infinitely
wonderful and thrilling. Leslie and Annie and Alice might snub her, but
Chris--their idol, the cleverest and most charming man in all their
circle!--Chris loved her. Chris loved her. And--from those old dreamy
days in Biretta's Bookstore, had she not loved Chris?

Another morning came, another night, and life went its usual way. But
Norma was wrapped in a dream that was truly a pillar of cloud by day,
and of flame by night. She was hardly aware of the people about her,
except that her inner consciousness of happiness and of elation gave her
an even added sweetness and charm, made her readier to please them, and
more anxious for their love.

Wolf almost immediately saw the change, but she did not see the shadow
that came to be habitual in his young face, nor read aright his grave
eyes. She supposed him perhaps unusually busy, if indeed she thought of
him at all. Like her aunt, and Rose, and the rest of her world, he was
no more now than a kindly and dependable shadow, something to be quickly
put aside for the reality of her absorbing friendship for Chris.

CHAPTER XXIX

Despite their resolve not to see each other in the two weeks that
followed Alice's luncheon, Norma had seen Chris three times. He had
written her on the third day, and she had met the postman at the corner,
sure that the big square envelope would be there. They had had luncheon,
far down town, and walked up through the snowy streets together, parting
with an engagement for the fourth day ahead, a matinee and tea
engagement. The third meeting had been for luncheon again, and after
lunch they had wandered through