s not vanished. The air at Santa Barbara must
have been very nourishing if your appetite was no better there
than here. Your strange 'sea-change' on that distant coast is still
marvellous to me."

"Mary can tell you how ravenous I usually am. I do not meet friends
every day from whom I have been separated so long."

"It is a very ordinary thing for me to meet 'friends,'" he replied,
_sotto voce_, "for I have many. I had hopes that I should meet one who
would be far more than a friend. I'm half inclined to go out to Santa
Barbara and see if my little sister Madge is not still there."

"Do you think me a fraud?"

"Oh, no, only so changed that I scarcely know how to get acquainted
with you."

"Even if I granted so much, which I do not, I might suggest that
one must be uninteresting indeed if she inspires no desire for
acquaintance. But such talk is absurd between us, Graydon."

"Of course it is. You are so changed for the better that I can
scarcely believe my eyes or ears, and my heart not at all. Of course
your wishes shall be my law, and my wishes will lead me to seek your
acquaintance with deep and undisguised interest. You see the trouble
with me is that I have not changed, and it will require a little time
for me to adapt myself to the new order of things. I am now somewhat
stunned and paralyzed. In this imbecile state I am both stupid
and selfish. I ought to congratulate you, and so I do with all the
shattered forces of my mind and reason. You have improved amazingly.
You are destined to become a belle _par excellence_, and probably are
one now--I know so little of what has occurred since we parted."

"You are changed also, Graydon. You used to be kind in the old days;"
and she spoke sadly.

"In some respects I am changed," he said, earnestly; "and my affection
for you is of such long standing and so deep that it prompts me to
make another protest." (They had strolled out upon the grounds and
were now alone.) "I have changed in this respect; I am no longer so
young as I was, and am losing my zest for general society. I was weary
of residence abroad, where I could have scarcely the semblance of
a home, and, while I had many acquaintances and friends, I had no
kindred. I'm sorry to say that the word 'friend,' in its reference
to young ladies, does not mean very much to me; or, rather, I have
learned from experience just what it does mean. A few years since I
was proud of my host of young lady friends, and som