ics of the men themselves. Huntington
craved nothing so much as an opportunity to be alone, that he might
review the extraordinary happenings of the past few weeks and thus
fortify himself sufficiently to prevent any lapse from what he knew to
be his duty; Cosden required a return to his usual feverish business
activity in order to digest his new ideas. Huntington remembered the
wonderful sunshine and the fragrant flowers, in the midst of which he
always saw a sweetly serious face peering out at him in spite of his
efforts at banishment; Cosden forgot everything except that he had been
shown up to himself in a light which demanded immediate and drastic
consideration. To both men the weeks just ended, including those which
had elapsed since their return had been epoch-making. But
self-confidence revives with time, however great a shock it may receive
and when Huntington finally invited his friend to dine with him Cosden
found himself quite ready to accept.

This first meeting was more formal than any which had taken place during
the many years of their acquaintance. Cosden often spoke of the relief
it was to him to be permitted to drop in at his friend's house in such
an intimate way,--without "fussing up," as he expressed it; now he
appeared in his dinner-coat, dressed as immaculately as Huntington
himself always was. His manner was more contained, and even though it
was evident that his restraint was studied Huntington was interested and
pleased to observe that as yet, at all events, the influence of the
Bermuda experiences made itself felt.

"Well, Monty," Cosden said as he lifted his cocktail-glass, "I'm glad to
be aboard again. I've been associating a good deal lately with a fellow
named Conover Cosden, and I must admit he bores me. Let's have this and
then a little dividend just for good luck.--By the way, I saw you at the
Symphony last night."

"At the Symphony?" Huntington echoed surprised. "You don't mean to
say--"

"Oh, yes, I do!" he laughed rather consciously. "Not that it means much
to me yet, but I've reached a point where I can call it an orchestra
instead of a band, anyway. Mighty fine concert, wasn't it? I know I'm
right, for I read the criticism in the paper this morning."

"How long are you going to keep this up?"

"To the bitter end!" Cosden declared dramatically. "If music has charms
to calm the savage beast now is its chance to demonstrate! That isn't
all, but you wouldn't believe any more. A