ach one
wondered at the new characteristic he had discovered in the other.
Huntington was touched by Cosden's show of affection, the first time he
had ever seen it manifested; Cosden marveled at the first break he had
ever seen in his friend's self-possession. However easy-going Huntington
might be, he always held himself well in hand; and Cosden envied him
this trait. Huntington knew Cosden to be kind-hearted, but believed him
to consider any outward demonstration as an evidence of weakness. The
mutual discovery, surprising as it was, drew them closer together, and
each realized that whatever had been the means a change had come in
their relations which placed their friendship on a higher plane.

"There's something deeper in this than appears on the surface," Cosden
declared insistently as he held the light for Huntington and then lit
his own cigar. "You said down-stairs that we both got out beyond our
depth at Bermuda, and perhaps you meant more than I realized. Then,
when we met the Thatchers, it developed that you and Mrs. Thatcher had
known each other years ago. Now, tell me, is there any association
between these two ideas, and is this by chance the explanation of the
changed Monty I find here to-night?"

Huntington did not reply at once. He was annoyed with himself that he
had uncovered so much of his heart, and he had been pondering how to
extricate himself from the delicate position. Under no circumstances
must Cosden or any one else know how deep an impression Merry Thatcher
had made upon him. The first duty he owed to her was to stand before the
world simply as a devoted, older friend; his duty to himself was to
prevent his associates from discovering how many kinds of fool he was to
permit any such ridiculous condition to arise as that which at present
existed. Now Cosden had unconsciously shown him the way out.

"Yes, Connie," he replied calmly; "there is an association which may be
made of those ideas, and since you have spoken of it I will ask you to
stand by me at the finish. There is something I have intended to do ever
since I came home, but I lacked the courage; now you have given it to
me."

Huntington rose abruptly, and crossing to the opposite side of the
library he lifted the little mahogany table which stood there, placing
it before the fire in front of the easy-chair from which he had just
risen. Then he seated himself, and taking from his pocket the key to the
small drawer he turned it in t