s the superior of the best man," he reiterated.

"You don't know girls," she retorted.

"I know one, at least," he said, with a smile that spoke his admiration.

"I am not sure that you do," she persisted, speaking slowly and very
seriously. She was gazing at him in a curious, reflective way.

"The one I know is good enough for me." He leaned over and shyly took
her hand and raised it to his lips, then released it. She did not resist
him, but presently she said tentatively:

"I believe I had rather be treated as I am than as something I am not. I
like you too much to want to deceive you, and I think you are deceived."

He, of course, protested that he was not deceived. He "knew perfectly
well," he said. She was not convinced; but she let it go. She did not
want to quarrel with him for admiring her.

That afternoon, when Alice came in, her manner was so different from
what it had been of late that her mother could not but observe it. One
moment she was distraite; the next she was impatient and even irritable;
then this mood changed, and she was unusually gay; her cheeks glowed and
her eyes sparkled; but even as she reflected, a change came, and she
drifted away again into a brown study.

Next day, while Mrs. Yorke was still considering what to do, a card was
handed her. It was a name written simply on one of the slips of paper
that were kept on the hotel counter below. Keith of late had not been
sending up his card; a servant simply announced his name. This, then,
decided her. It was the most fortunate thing in the world that Alice had
gone off and was out of the way. It gave Mrs. Yorke the very opportunity
she desired. If, as she divined, the young man wished to talk to her
about anything personal, she would speak kindly to him, but so plainly
that he could never forget it. After all, it would be true kindness to
him to do so. She had a virtuous feeling as she smoothed her hair
before a mirror.

He was not in the sitting-room when she came down; so she sought for him
on one of the long verandahs where they usually sat. He was seated at
the far end, where he would be more or less secluded, and she marched
down on him. He was evidently on the watch for her, and as soon as she
appeared he rose from his seat. She had made up her mind very clearly
what she would say to him; but as she approached him it was not so easy
to say as she had fancied it. There was something in his bearing and
expression that deterred her f