finger.

"That is the most gifted--and detached--human being I have ever
known," said the secretary. "But it is his misfortune to have no
saving responsibilities. What he needs is to fall in love with the
right woman and marry her."

"You mean he should marry some great lady, some dazzling beauty?
Naturally."

"Heaven forbid!" said the secretary, with unexpected vigor. "No, no,
Miss Smith, that is not what such a man as Nicholas Jelnik needs!"

"But it may be what he wants," said I.

"I should never think so, myself," Mr. Johnson replied thoughtfully;
"and I have seen a good deal of him. No, Jelnik doesn't want great
beauty; he has enough of it himself. For the same reason, he doesn't
want brilliant qualities. He needs quiet, dependable goodness, the
changeless and unswerving affection of a steadfast heart."

But I could not agree with this simple-minded young man, who had in
himself the qualities he named. Why, if Nicholas Jelnik asked only
for a changeless love, _I_ could have given him full measure, even
to the running over thereof!

"What was Johnson talking to you about, that you both looked so
earnest?" Mr. Jelnik wanted to know presently.

"Oh, just things; flowers and fruits and animals."

"And people?"

"People always end by talking about people."

"Johnson's opinions are generally sound, because he himself is sound
to the core," said Mr. Jelnik, quietly.

"Miss Emmeline says he has got a limpid soul. The Author says it's
really a sound liver. However that may be, one couldn't live in the
same house with him without conceiving a real affection for him. He
is a very easy person to love."

Mr. Jelnik's eyebrows went up. "Don't love him too much, please,
Sophy. If you feel that you really ought to love somebody, love
_me_." The golden lights were in his eyes.

At that moment I both loved and hated him.

"Mr. Jelnik," said I, in as low a tone as his own, "it isn't fair to
talk to me like this. You did what you did to save me from
annoyance--and--and--misunderstanding. But you are perfectly free:
I have no idea of holding you to such an engagement, no, nor of
feeling myself bound by it, either."

"I understand, perfectly, Sophy," he said, after a pause. "And now,
may I ask you one or two plain questions, please?"

"I think you may."

"You never cared for Geddes?"

"Good heavens, no! Besides, he--"

"Wants Alicia? That's obvious. But what about The Author? I'm not
enamored of him, myself,