eated you like a brute," he said, slowly. "And I have treated
Mr. Fern just as badly. My punishment is well deserved. But how can this
puzzle of her absence be accounted for! Of course she would have had to
satisfy me on that point before I could have married her."

The listener turned giddily toward a window.

"And yet you talk of love!" he said, recovering. "If that girl had done
me the honor she did you I would not have _asked_ her such a question--I
would have refused to _listen_ if it gave her the slightest pain to
tell."

"I wonder she did not love you instead of me--for she did love me once,"
was the sober reply. "You would be a thousand times better, more
suitable, than I."

There was no reply to this, but the two men walked slowly out of the
house and to the station, where they took the next train for the city.
On the way they talked little, and at the Grand Central Depot they
separated.

Lawrence Gouger, who had in some strange way learned the news of Miss
Fern's return, was awaiting Roseleaf in his rooms.

"Well, I hear the missing one is found," he said, as the novelist came
in.

"Yes. She is with her father. But the peculiar thing is that she closes
her lips absolutely about her absence. She not only refuses to speak
now, but announces that her refusal is final."

Mr. Gouger hesitated what card to play.

"When does the marriage take place?" he asked, finally.

"With me? Never. I have been thrown over. Unless she had explained I
could not have married her, any way; could I?"

The critic said he did not know. It would certainly have been awkward.

"And what is your theory?" he added. "Do you still lay anything to
Weil?"

"No. I am completely nonplussed. But, never mind. It is over."

Roseleaf stretched himself, and yawned.

"Do you know, Gouger, I almost doubt if I have really been in love at
all. I feel a queer sense of relief at being out of it, though there is
a dull pain, too, that isn't exactly comfortable. I told Archie coming
in that she should have married _him_. Upon my soul I wish she would.
She's an awful nice little thing, and he has a heart that is genuine
enough for her. Well, it's odd, anyway."

Astonishment was written on the face of the other gentleman as he heard
these statements.

"You have at least gained one point," he said, impressively. "You have
done the best part of the greatest novel that ever was written. Sit down
as soon as you can and finish it, and we shall