es in sight, no matter whether I've
finished this meal or not," he promised himself.

And suddenly he felt unhurried, in the midst of a large leisure, with a
savory broiled chicken dinner before him,--not exactly before him,
either; most of it had been stuffed away. Only the fag-end remained on
his plate. A perfectly good meal had been ruined by an ill-timed
resistance to temptation.

The glint of a yellow dress far up the street had just prompted him to
swift action when the door opened and old Rose put her head in to say
that Captain Renfrew wanted to see Peter in the library.

The brown man came to a shocked standstill.

"What! Right now?" he asked.

"Yeah, right now," carped Rose. "Ever'thing he wants, he wants right
now. He's been res'less as a cat in a bulldog's den ever sence he come
home fuh dinner. Dunno whut's come into he ole bones, runnin' th'ugh his
dinner lak a razo'-back." She withdrew in a continued mumble of censure.

Peter cast a glance up the street, timed Cissie's arrival at the front
gate, picked up his hat, and walked briskly to the library in the hope
of finishing any business the Captain might have, in time to encounter
the octoroon. He even began making some little conversational plans with
which he could meet Cissie in a simple, unstudied manner. He recalled
with a certain satisfaction that he had not said a word of condemnation
the night of Cissie's confession. He would make a point of that, and was
prepared to argue that, since he had said nothing, he meant nothing. In
fact he was prepared to throw away the truth completely and enter the
conversation as an out-and-out opportunist, alleging whatever appeared
to fit the occasion, as all men talk to all women.

The old Captain was just getting into his chair as Peter entered. He
paused in the midst of lowering himself by the chair-arms and got erect
again. He began speaking a little uncertainly:

"Ah--by the way, Peter--I sent for you--"

"Yes, sir." Peter looked out at the window.

The old gentleman scrutinized Peter a moment; then his faded eyes
wandered about the library.

"Still working at the books, cross-indexing them--"

"Yes, sir." Peter could divine by the crinkle of his nerves the very
loci of the girl as she passed down the thoroughfare.

"Very good," said the old lawyer, absently. He was obviously preoccupied
with some other topic. "Very good," he repeated with racking
deliberation; "quite good. How did that globe get