what gave _me_ the cold shivers."

Briscoe eyed him sternly, the expression incongruous with the habitual
aspect of his broad, jovial, florid face. Their features were visible to
each other, though now and then the fog would shift between the rustic
chairs in which they sat. Julian Bayne laughed. How easily even now did
this woman convert every casual acquaintance into an eager partisan!

"If she is growing sensitive for her cruelties to me, I am apprehensive
that it may be in her mind to make amends. I should keep away from
her--discretion being the better part of valor."

Briscoe drew back with an air of averse distaste. He spoke guardedly,
however, remembering that he was in his own house and fearful of going
too far; yet he could not let this pass. "You surprise me, Julian. I
never imagined _you_ could say anything so--so--caddish."

"Why don't you say 'currish' and be done with it?" Julian's eyes flashed
fire. His face had flushed deeply red. Every muscle was tense, alert.
Then he checked himself hastily. He turned his cigar in his hand and
looked intently at it as he reflected that this woman had already done
harm enough in his life. He would not allow her to inflict the further
and irreparable injury of coming between him and the friend he loved as a
brother. He slipped quietly into his former easy attitude before he
resumed, smiling: "Currish, indeed it may be, but that is exactly the
kind of old dog Tray I am."

"You will please take notice that _I_ have said nothing of the sort,"
Briscoe stiffly rejoined. "But I think and I do say that it is a
preposterous instance of coxcombry to subject such a woman as Mrs.
Royston--because of a generous moment of self-reproach for a cruel and
selfish deed--to the imputation of inviting advances from a man who coyly
plans evasion and flight--and she scarcely two years a widow."

"Time cuts no ice in the matter," Bayne forced himself to continue the
discussion. "She has certainly shown the manes of Archibald Royston the
conventional respect."

"She made an awful mistake, we all know that! And although I realized
that it was on account of that rubbishy little quarrel you and she got up
at the last moment, I felt for her, because to people generally her
choice was subject to the imputation of being wholly one of interest.
They were so dissimilar in taste, so uncongenial; and I really think
_he_ did not love her!"

"_He_ had no other motive, at all events."

"Oh, of c