uation, it seemed incredible that any one should think it
necessary to linger in the conventional outskirts of word-play and
evasion.

"It was not that--I was not ungrateful," she insisted. But the power of
expression failed her suddenly; she felt a tremor in her throat, and two
tears gathered and fell slowly from her eyes.

Selden moved forward and took her hand. "You are very tired. Why won't
you sit down and let me make you comfortable?"

He drew her to the arm-chair near the fire, and placed a cushion behind
her shoulders.

"And now you must let me make you some tea: you know I always have that
amount of hospitality at my command."

She shook her head, and two more tears ran over. But she did not weep
easily, and the long habit of self-control reasserted itself, though she
was still too tremulous to speak.

"You know I can coax the water to boil in five minutes," Selden
continued, speaking as though she were a troubled child.

His words recalled the vision of that other afternoon when they had sat
together over his tea-table and talked jestingly of her future. There
were moments when that day seemed more remote than any other event in her
life; and yet she could always relive it in its minutest detail.

She made a gesture of refusal. "No: I drink too much tea. I would rather
sit quiet--I must go in a moment," she added confusedly.

Selden continued to stand near her, leaning against the mantelpiece. The
tinge of constraint was beginning to be more distinctly perceptible under
the friendly ease of his manner. Her self-absorption had not allowed her
to perceive it at first; but now that her consciousness was once more
putting forth its eager feelers, she saw that her presence was becoming
an embarrassment to him. Such a situation can be saved only by an
immediate outrush of feeling; and on Selden's side the determining
impulse was still lacking.

The discovery did not disturb Lily as it might once have done. She had
passed beyond the phase of well-bred reciprocity, in which every
demonstration must be scrupulously proportioned to the emotion it
elicits, and generosity of feeling is the only ostentation condemned.
But the sense of loneliness returned with redoubled force as she saw
herself forever shut out from Selden's inmost self. She had come to him
with no definite purpose; the mere longing to see him had directed her;
but the secret hope she had carried with her suddenly revealed itself in
its death-