devil to pay. And paying the devil, in this
particular instance, Skinner apprehended, would be a hard proposition.

Instigated by this fear, ever since the night of the First Presbyterian
affair Skinner had schemed to keep Mrs. McLaughlin and Honey apart. It
was easy enough at first, when they were only invited to a few affairs,
but with the enlargement of their social horizon the danger loomed bigger.

Skinner knew enough about women not to warn Honey against talking
confidentially with Mrs. McLaughlin, since this would excite her
suspicions and recoil upon him, Skinner, with a shower of inconvenient
questions. The only thing he could do, then, was to see to it that he
and Honey should avoid places where the McLaughlins were liable to be.
Skinner had been put to all sorts of devices to find out if the
McLaughlins were going to certain parties to which he and Honey had been
invited. He could n't do this very well by discussing the thing with the
boss. So he had endeavored to determine the exact social status of the
McLaughlins in that community and avoid the stratum in which they might
circulate.

But this rule had failed him once or twice, for in communities of the
description of Meadeville social life was more or less democratic and
nondescript. When he had thought himself secure on certain occasions, he
had bumped right into the McLaughlins and then it behooved him to stick
pretty close to Honey all the evening.

This was not what he counted on, for Skinner was beginning to enjoy the
sweets of broader social intercourse. He was beginning to like to talk
with and dance with other women.

At times, when Skinner had received information at the last moment that
the McLaughlins were to be at a party, he had affected a headache. On
one of these occasions, Honey had set her heart on going and told Skinner
that the Lewises had offered to take her along with them in case he
should be delayed at the office--for Skinner had even pretended once or
twice to be thus delayed. Presto! at Honey's words about the Lewises,
Dearie's headache had disappeared.

Skinner thought with a humorous chuckle how Honey had said, "Dearie, I
believe you're jealous of Tom Lewis."

"Perhaps I am," the miserable Skinner had admitted.

Skinner pictured the effect of exposure in all sorts of dramatic ways.
But not once did he see himself suffering--only Honey. That's what
worried him. He could bear pain without flinching, but he could