oose my own friends, give my kisses to whom
I please. Marriage--the sort of marriage mine would be--is slavery, and
nothing else. What I am afraid of," she went on, "is that when I was
down in that highly respectable old city, sitting all day in a
respectable little villa, with two servants to order about and
housekeeping-books to keep, I should feel the old pull come over me, and
some day I should chuck it all and come back here to play around under
the lights. It's rather fine to be here, you know--to be in the
atmosphere, even if the lime-light misses one."

John sighed, and regarded her thoughtfully.

"You're a queer little girl, Sophy," he said. "I don't know how to
advise you."

"Of course you don't," she answered. "No one could. As for you, I
suppose you will marry Louise. What will happen to you after that, I
don't know. Perhaps I sha'n't care so much about London then. You've
made it very nice for me, you know."

"You've made it bearable even for me," he told her. "I often think how
lonely I should have been without you to talk to. Louise sometimes is
delightfully companionable, and kind enough to turn one's head. Other
days I scarcely understand her; everything we say to one another seems
wrong. I come away and leave her simply because I feel that there is a
wall between us that I can't get over."

"There isn't really," Sophy sighed. "Louise is a dear. Considering
everything, I think she is wonderful. But you are utterly different. She
is very complex, very emotional, and she has her own standards of life.
You, on the other hand, are very simple, very faithful and honest, and
you accept the standards which have been made for you--very, very
rigidly, John."

"I wonder!" he murmured, as he looked into his wine-glass. "Sometimes I
think I am a fool. Sometimes I think I'd do better to let go the strings
and just live as others do. Sometimes ideas come into one's head that
upset principles and everything. I don't know!"

Sophy leaned across the table toward him.

"Be a little more human, John," she begged. "You must feel kind things
sometimes. Couldn't you say them? I am depressed and gloomy. Be like
other men, for once, and flirt with me a little! Try to say things, even
if you don't mean them--just for once, for a few short hours!"

He held her hand for a moment. The fingers seemed to respond to his
touch with a little thrill.

"You silly child!" he exclaimed. "If I were to begin to say all the kind