" he declared
hastily. She was calmly reading his face, and did not seem to approve
the text.

"Are you as fickle as ever, then, _mon cher_?" she asked, softly.

"I'm not fickle, Diana. My fault is that I'm never serious."

"Never?"

"I cannot remember ever being serious; at least, where a girl was
concerned."

Diana bit her lips to restrain a frown, but her eyes, which he was
avoiding, flashed wickedly.

"That is surely a fault, my Arthur," was her tender reply. "Were you
never serious during our quiet evenings together; our dances, theatre
parties and romps?"

"That was merely fun. And you, Diana?"

"Oh, I enjoyed the fun, too. It meant so much to me. I began to live,
then, and found life very sweet. But when you suddenly left me and went
abroad--ah, _that_ was indeed serious."

Her tone was full of passionate yearning. He laughed, trying to appear
at ease. Some sort of an understanding must be had with Diana sooner or
later, and she might as well realize at this present interview that the
old relations could not be restored. His nature was not brutal and he
disliked to hurt her; moreover, the boy had an uneasy feeling that he
had been a far more ardent admirer of this peculiar girl than any fellow
should be who had had no serious intentions; yet it would be folly to
allow Diana to think she could win him back to his former allegiance. No
compromising word had ever left his lips; he had never spoken of love to
her. Yet the girl's attitude seemed to infer a certain possession of him
which was far from agreeable.

Having gone so far, he should have said more; but here again his lack of
moral courage proved his stumbling-block, and he weakly evaded a frank
expression of his true feelings. "Life," he began somewhat haltingly,
to break the embarrassing pause, "is only serious when we make it so;
and as soon as we make it serious it makes us unhappy. So I've adopted
one invariable rule: to laugh and be gay."

"Then I too will be gay, and together we'll enjoy life," responded
Diana, with an effort to speak lightly. "I shall let your moods be my
moods, Arthur, as a good friend should. Are we not affinities?"

Again he knew not what to say. Her persistence in clinging to her
intangible hold upon him was extremely irritating, and he realized the
girl was far too clever for him to cope with and was liable to cause him
future trouble. Instead of seizing the opportunity to frankly undeceive
her he foolishly evaded