an Avenue gallery, looking at the
pictures, and talking about themselves.

Chris had loaned her books, little slim books of dramas or essays, and
Chris had talked to her of plays and music. One night, when Wolf was in
Philadelphia, Chris took her to the opera again, duly returning her to
Aunt Kate at half-past eleven, and politely disclaiming Aunt Kate's
gratitude for his goodness to little Norma.

He never attempted to touch her, to kiss her; he never permitted himself
an affectionate term, or a hint of the passion that enveloped him; they
were friends, that was all, and surely, surely, they told themselves, a
self-respecting man and woman may be friends--may talk and walk and
lunch together, and harm no one? Norma knew that it was the one vital
element in Chris's life, as in her own, and that the hours that he did
not spend with her were filled with plans and anticipations for their
times together.

One evening, just before Christmas, when the young Sheridans were
staying through a heavy storm with their mother, Wolf came home with the
news that he must spend some weeks in Philadelphia, studying a new
method of refining iron ore. It was tacitly understood that this
transfer was but a preliminary to the long-anticipated promotion to the
California managership, but Wolf took it very quietly, with none of the
exultation that the compliment once would have caused him.

"I'll go with you to Philadelphia," Norma said, not quite naturally. She
had been made vaguely uneasy by his repressed manner, and by the fact
that her kiss of greeting had been almost put aside by him, at the door,
a few minutes earlier. Dear old Wolf; she had always loved him--she
would not have him unhappy for all the world!

In answer he looked at her unsmilingly, wearily narrowing his eyes as if
to concentrate his thoughts.

"You can't, very well, but thank you just the same, Norma," he said,
formally. "I shall be with Voorhies and Palmer and Bender all the time;
they put me up at a club, and there'll be plenty of evening work--nearly
every evening----"

"Norma'll stay here with me!" Aunt Kate said, hospitably.

"Well"--Wolf agreed, indifferently--"I can run up from Philadelphia and
be home every Saturday, Mother," he added. Norma felt vaguely alarmed by
his manner, and devoted her best efforts to amusing and interesting him
for the rest of the meal. After dinner she came in from the kitchen to
find him in a big chair in the little front parlo