r Smite narrated experiences in his sea-faring life, and
MacHugh of his mountain camping experiences in the West. Marietta
described experiences with her beaux in Wisconsin and characteristics of
her yokel neighbors at Blackwood, Angela joining in. Finally MacHugh
drew a pencil sketch of Marietta followed by a long train of admiring
yokels, her eyes turned up in a very shy, deceptive manner.

"Now I think that's cruel," she declared, when Eugene laughed heartily.
"I never look like that."

"That's just the way you look and do," he declared. "You're the broad
and flowery path that leadeth to destruction."

"Never mind, Babyette," put in Angela, "I'll take your part if no one
else will. You're a nice, demure, shrinking girl and you wouldn't look
at anyone, would you?"

Angela got up and was holding Marietta's head mock sympathetically in
her arms.

"Say, that's a dandy pet name," called Smite, moved by Marietta's
beauty.

"Poor Marietta," observed Eugene. "Come over here to me and I'll
sympathize with you."

"You don't take my drawing in the right spirit, Miss Blue," put in
MacHugh cheerfully. "It's simply to show how popular you are."

Angela stood beside Eugene as her guests departed, her slender arm about
his waist. Marietta was coquetting finally with MacHugh. These two
friends of his, thought Eugene, had the privilege of singleness to be
gay and alluring to her. With him that was over now. He could not be
that way to any girl any more. He had to behave--be calm and
circumspect. It cut him, this thought. He saw at once it was not in
accord with his nature. He wanted to do just as he had always done--make
love to Marietta if she would let him, but he could not. He walked to
the fire when the studio door was closed.

"They're such nice boys," exclaimed Marietta. "I think Mr. MacHugh is as
funny as he can be. He has such droll wit."

"Smite is nice too," replied Eugene defensively.

"They're both lovely--just lovely," returned Marietta.

"I like Mr. MacHugh a little the best--he's quainter," said Angela, "but
I think Mr. Smite is just as nice as he can be. He's so old fashioned.
There's not anyone as nice as my Eugene, though," she said
affectionately, putting her arm about him.

"Oh, dear, you two!" exclaimed Marietta. "Well, I'm going to bed."

Eugene sighed.

They had arranged a couch for her which could be put behind the
silver-spangled fish net in the alcove when company was gone.

Eugene though