in her tea-ball, and poured hot water
over it in her cup. Then she took her place in the one chair.

But, oddly enough, although there was no place for him, another seemed
to be with her in the room.

* * * * *

"Let me have your engagement-book a moment," Frances requested.

Don complied. He had taken his dinner that night at the dairy lunch,
and after returning to the house to dress had walked to his
fiancee's.

Frances puckered her brows.

"You are to have a very busy time these next few weeks," she informed
him. "Let me see--to-day is Wednesday. On Friday we are to go to the
Moores'. Evelyn's debutante dance, you know."

She wrote it in his book.

"On Saturday we go to the opera. The Warringtons have asked us to a
box party."

She wrote that.

"Next Wednesday comes the Stanley cotillion. Have you received your
invitation?"

"Haven't seen it," he answered.

"The Stanleys are always unpardonably late, but I helped Elise make
out her list. On the following Friday we dine at the Westons'."

She wrote that.

"On the following Saturday I'm to give a box party at the opera--the
Moores and Warringtons."

She added that, and looked over the list.

"And I suppose, after going to this trouble, I'll have to remind you
all over again on the day of each event."

"Oh, I don't know; but--" He hesitated.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Seems to me we are getting pretty gay, aren't we?"

"Don't talk like an old man!" she scolded. "So far, this has been a
very stupid season."

"But--"

"Well?"

"You know, now I'm in business--"

"Please don't remind me of that any more than is necessary," she
interrupted.

"Oh, all right; only, I do have to get up in the morning."

"Why remind me of that? It's disagreeable enough having to think of it
even occasionally."

"But I do, you know."

"I know it, Don. Honestly I do."

She seated herself on the arm of his chair, with an arm about his neck
and her cheek against his hair.

"And I think it quite too bad," she assured him--"which is why I don't
like to talk about it."

She sprang to her feet again.

"Now, Don, you must practice with me some of the new steps. You'll get
very rusty if you don't."

"I'd rather hear you sing," he ventured.

"This is much more important," she replied.

She placed a Maxixe record on the Victrola that stood by the piano;
then she held out her arms to him.

"Poor old hard-working Don