ad found so rare a spirit, fragile yet brave and equal
to all the hard emergencies life had put upon her.

Then he took thought of his income and the brevity of their acquaintance
and was abashed.

The Jim Blaisdells met them at the club for a dinner at which David was
host. It was a nicely appointed dinner, the best the chef could
contrive. Also it was distinctly an extravagance. But David did not
care. His spirits ran high, in a gaiety that was infectious. It was a
very successful party.

After that came two short hours on the veranda, while a three-quarters
moon rose to shower the world with silver, gaiety dwindled and a solemn
tender happiness mounted. Then they drove homeward, by a roundabout way,
in Jim's car. David and Shirley had the back seat, for the most part in
a free intimate silence that was delicious indeed.

Later Mrs. Jim found her guest dreamily braiding her hair for the night.

"Shirley," she began directly, "this is going too fast. David's too nice
a boy to be hurt. He's taking your flirtation seriously."

"I'm not flirting with him. At least I don't think I am," Shirley
amended slowly.

"I thought you were interested only in rich men?"

"I did think so. But now-- It might be fun to be poor--with him--for a
while. It wouldn't be for long. You said yourself he'll have a
brilliant future."

"I think so. But it _might_ be long coming. A professional career is so
uncertain at the start. And it's never fun to be poor--unless you're
equipped. Married life is more than parties and golf and dinners at the
club. Shirley, dear," she concluded pleadingly, "do be sensible."

"Of course, I will be. You forget I know all about poverty from
experience." Shirley looked up suddenly, keenly. "Why do you warn me?
Is there any reason why you're afraid to entrust me to David Quentin?"

"No-o," said Mrs. Jim.

How could she voice the question in her mind? It was, could she entrust
David Quentin to Shirley?

Still later, "Jim," she said to her almost sleeping husband, "I'm
worried. I'm afraid David and Shirley will get themselves engaged."

"Won't hurt 'em," grunted Jim.

"But they might get married."

"People do it sometimes. Be good for him. Life's been too easy for
Davy."

"I feel responsible. Couldn't you speak to Davy and warn him to go slow?"

"I thought," mumbled Jim, "you were a wise woman," and dropped off to
sleep.

At the same late hour David was sitting at the