n without
me."

Pelgram grew a little pale. To him, who had such difficulty in being
real, this was very real. And seeing it, the girl softened.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm really more sorry than I can tell you."

And then she had cause for repentance, for the artist, with an effort,
drew all his pride to aid him. And his proud mood was by no means his
best. The only redeeming feature of the valedictory was that finally it
was over.

Helen, looking a trifle jaded, walked homeward under the escort of Isabel
and Wilkinson. She was quite silent, and Isabel, suspecting trouble,
said little for her part.

Not so Charlie, who held forth fluently, with the exhilaration one feels
on coming out of a hot church and dashing off in a touring car.

"Well," he said, "certain unfriendly persons have studiously circulated
the impression that I am eligible for the Paresis Club--a chucklehead, in
fact. But you will have to admit that I never give Private Views. You
must concede that I do not inflict on my friends my opinions about crude
color. Why, there must be several hundred things I don't do!"

"Thank Heaven you don't!" remarked Miss Maitland.

CHAPTER VII

It was one minute before eleven when the card of Mr. Charles Wilkinson
was borne gingerly, by a large youth from South Framingham who served
as door boy, into the presence of Mr. Hurd. That gentleman, reading
the bit of pasteboard with a grunt which might have been indicative of
any one of a dozen invidious sentiments, opened the proximate corner of
his mouth.

"Send him in," came from the brief orifice.

A moment later Mr. Wilkinson stood in the presence of his prey. Or
perchance--but no, this was to be Marengo, not Waterloo--and above all,
not Moscow. Something of this was in his eyes when he lifted them to
meet those of his distinguished relation.

"Are you at liberty for a few moments?" he soberly inquired. He took
care to delete every vestige of animation from his tone and manner, and
so radical a change did this effect that his step-uncle blinked. A man
as keen as John M. Hurd could not be blind to a mutation so great. He
looked Mr. Wilkinson over with more care than he had ever employed
before, for he recognized at once that this was no ordinary visit.

"I am as much at liberty as I am likely to be," he replied
noncommittally.

His visitor wistfully and somewhat suggestively eyed a chair, but made
no move to be seated. He felt that,