y
going loony."

He turned his eyes full on her and began to laugh, and she shrank away
from him.

"What _is_ the matter?"

"Just me," he repeated. "I'm going loony. This whole place is like a
dream to me--this Delmonico's--"

As he talked she saw he had changed utterly. He wasn't at all light
and gay and careless--a great lethargy and discouragement had come
over him. Revulsion seized her, followed by a faint, surprising
boredom. His voice seemed to come out of a great void.

"Edith," he said, "I used to think I was clever, talented, an artist.
Now I know I'm nothing. Can't draw, Edith. Don't know why I'm telling
you this."

She nodded absently.

"I can't draw, I can't do anything. I'm poor as a church mouse." He
laughed, bitterly and rather too loud. "I've become a damn beggar, a
leech on my friends. I'm a failure. I'm poor as hell."

Her distaste was growing. She barely nodded this time, waiting for her
first possible cue to rise.

Suddenly Gordon's eyes filled with tears.

"Edith," he said, turning to her with what was evidently a strong
effort at self-control, "I can't tell you what it means to me to know
there's one person left who's interested in me."

He reached out and patted her hand, and involuntarily she drew it
away.

"It's mighty fine of you," he repeated.

"Well," she said slowly, looking him in the eye, "any one's always
glad to see an old friend--but I'm sorry to see you like this,
Gordon."

There was a pause while they looked at each other, and the momentary
eagerness in his eyes wavered. She rose and stood looking at him, her
face quite expressionless.

"Shall we dance?" she suggested, coolly.

--Love is fragile--she was thinking--but perhaps the pieces are saved,
the things that hovered on lips, that might have been said. The new
love words, the tendernesses learned, are treasured up for the next
lover.

V

Peter Himmel, escort to the lovely Edith, was unaccustomed to being
snubbed; having been snubbed, he was hurt and embarrassed, and ashamed
of himself. For a matter of two months he had been on special delivery
terms with Edith Bradin, and knowing that the one excuse and
explanation of the special delivery letter is its value in sentimental
correspondence, he had believed himself quite sure of his ground. He
searched in vain for any reason why she should have taken this
attitude in the matter of a simple kiss.

Therefore when he was cut in on by the man with the musta