t everybody took a nap after luncheon. I stayed in the den and read
Ibsen, and felt very mournful. And after Hedda had shot herself, I lay
down on the divan and cried a little--over Hedda; she was young and it
was such a tragic ending--and then I fell asleep.

When I wakened Mr. Harbison was standing by the table, and he held
my book in his hands. In view of the armed neutrality between us, I
expected to see him bow to me curtly, turn on his heel and leave the
room. Indeed, considering his state of mind the night before, I should
hardly have been surprised if he had thrown Hedda at my head. (This is
not a pun. I detest them.) But instead, when he heard me move he glanced
over at me and even smiled a little.

"She wasn't worth it," he said, indicating the book.

"Worth what?"

"Your tears. You were crying over it, weren't you?"

"She was very unhappy," I asserted indifferently. "She was married and
she loved some one else."

"Do you really think she did?" he asked. "And even so, was that a
reason?"

"The other man cared for her; he may not have been able to help it."

"But he knew that she was married," he said virtuously, and then he
caught my eye and he saw the analogy instantly, for he colored hotly and
put down the book.

"Most men argue that way," I said. "They argue by the book, and--they do
as they like."

He picked up a Japanese ivory paper weight from the table, and stood
balancing it across his finger.

"You are perfectly right," he said at last. "I deserve it all. My
grievance is at myself. Your--your beauty, and the fact that I thought
you were unhappy, put me--beside myself. It is not an excuse; it is a
weak explanation. I will not forget myself again."

He was as abject as any one could have wished. It was my minute of
triumph, but I can not pretend that I was happy. Evidently it had been
only a passing impulse. If he had really cared, now that he knew I
was free, he would have forgotten himself again at once. Then a new
explanation occurred to me. Suppose it had been Bella all the time, and
the real shock had been to find that she had been married!

"The fault of the situation was really mine," I said magnanimously;
"I quite blame myself. Only, you must believe one thing. You never
furnished us any amusement." I looked at him sidewise. "The discovery
that Bella and Jim were once married must have been a great shock."

"It was a surprise," he replied evenly. His voice and his eyes were
ins