he said,
"let me make one thing clear to you. Any effort on your part to create
an impression that you have fallen in love with me will not be crowned
with success."

Christine was quite unabashed by his directness.

"I'm not a bit in love with you," she said--"not any more than you are
with me, only I realize that there is a possibility for either of us, and
of the two," she added maliciously, "I really think I'm the more
hard-hearted."

"Perhaps you will think I am running away from danger," he answered,
"when I tell you that as soon as I have seen your father, got your
ring, and fulfilled the immediate necessities of the occasion, I
shall go home."

"Oh, you can't do that!" cried Christine, in genuine alarm.

"You surely don't expect me to neglect my legitimate business on account
of this ridiculous farce."

For the first time a certain amount of real hostility crept in their
relation. They looked at each other steadily. Then Christine said
politely: "Well, we'll see how things go." He knew, however, that she was
as determined that he should stay as he was to leave, and the knowledge
made him all the firmer.

The evening was a stupid one, devoted largely to toasts, jokes,
congratulations and a few stabs from Nancy. Through it all poor Hickson's
gloom was obvious.

The next day the party broke up. Wickham and Hickson taking an early
express; the others, even Nancy who abandoned her motor on account of the
snow, going in by a noonday train. Already, it seemed to Riatt that the
bonds of matrimony were closing about him as he found himself delegated
to look up Christine's trunks, maid and dressing-case.

Soon after the arrival of the train he had an appointment, made by
telephone, with Mr. Fenimer. The interview was to take place at Mr.
Fenimer's club, a most discreet and elegant organization of fashionable
virility. Riatt was not kept waiting. Fenimer came promptly to meet him.

He was a man of fifty, well made, and supremely well dressed. He was
tanned as befits a sportsman; on his face the absence of furrows created
by the absence of thought was made up for by the fine wrinkles induced by
poignant and continued anxiety about his material comforts. In his figure
the vigor of the athlete contended with the comfortable stoutness of the
epicure. He had left a discussion in which all his highest faculties had
been roused, a discussion on the replenishing of the club's cellar, and
had come to speak to his futu