I do not believe what this--what has been said
about you. But I do not love you." She drew away from him. "You were
mistaken. There is no choice between you, for I love neither of you. I
do not love anybody. I hate you both!" she flashed out inconsistently.
"Now go! I don't want to see either of you again."

She buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.

"I will do something to deserve your praise," said Sempland, in his
deep voice, turning away.

"Miss Glen," said Lacy, most graciously,--Fanny Glen's presence seemed
to call all that was good in him to the surface,--"no one has respected
me, or trusted me, or honored me as you have, for years. Sempland
cannot rob me of that, even though he should win you. Good-by, and, if
it be not grotesque from me, may God bless you!"

CHAPTER III

A STRIFE IN MAGNANIMITY

"Well, Sempland," said Lacy, with astonishing courtesy and forbearance
under all the circumstances, as he overtook the other man plodding
along the shaded street, "you don't seem to be in much greater favor
with the young lady than I."

"Lacy," returned the other, "you did well this evening. You are not
good enough for Miss Glen, I still think. Nobody is, for that matter,
but you less than others. My opinion of you, you know--"

"Faith, all the world may know it apparently!"

"That's unjust. I have never mentioned it to any one, and should not
have expressed it to Miss Glen had it not been to save her. But you
showed the stuff that was in you, that used to be in you, to-night. It
was fine. I thank you for having said--" he paused.

"What?" asked Lacy.

"Why, that about my not having had a chance, you know."

"Oh, that was a trifle."

"I know. But not many men would have said it at the time."

"I tell you what it is, Sempland. I like you, I always have liked you.
When I--er--dropped out of the old set, you know, before the war, I
didn't mind giving up any one so much as you. And I was sorry for you
to-night. You hadn't had a chance. God knows I love the girl, but I am
not the man for her. I would break her heart in a month. You don't know
women, I take it, but I think she will be yours in the end. I give her
to you."

"She is not yours to give."

"No, I know she isn't. But I withdraw in your favor."

"I don't want that sort of a fair field. Harry," went on the other man,
unconsciously dropping into the familiar form of boyhood, which caused
Lacy's face to flush with pleasure, "I