They were talking about love when I began listening again,--and Cary
made some remark inaudible to me, which gave Flora the opportunity to
say:

"Is it true, then, what I have heard? Were you ever disappointed in
love?"

"Always!" said Cary, evenly.

Jimmie grinned and jogged my elbow.

"Isn't she a dandy?" he whispered. "Never turned a hair."

Flora flushed angrily because Artie laughed and looked appreciatively
at Cary, as if really seeing her for the first time.

Every woman knows when that supreme moment comes--at least, every woman
has who has liked a man before he has liked her. She feels it without
looking at him. She knows it from the innermost consciousness of her
being. "He is looking at me," says her heart, "for the first time,
with the eyes which a man has for a woman."

Many a man has been selected first, as Cary selected Artie, and been
wooed by her as modestly and legitimately as she did, without
suspecting that he did not take the initiative every time.

So a little modest courage and restrained self-reliance crept into
Cary's manner, which had never been there before, and I, believing
implicitly in the Angel's _ipse dixit_ that Flora and the best man were
not engaged, had visions of the first bridesmaid's winning her lost
place with him, and, oh, making him pay for his neglect.

If man only knew how heavily a flouted woman, after she has safely won
him, does make him pay for his bad taste, he would be more careful.

But Artie never knew. He sat there, listening to the biting words
which passed back and forth between Flora and Cary, without his modesty
permitting him to realize that he was the stake these two clever girls
were throwing mental dice for.

But Jimmie knew, for his blue eyes turned black, and his cigarettes
burned out in two puffs, and his nervous hands clenched and unclenched
in his wicked wish to say something to aggravate the affair. Finally,
meeting my derisive grin, he wrenched my little finger under the table,
under pretence of picking up my handkerchief, and whispered:

"Oh, Lord, give me strength to keep out of this row!"

I laughed, of course, and so missed something, for the next thing I
heard, the conversation had become more personal, and Flora was saying:

"Love is an acquisition. The more you have, the more you want."

"Pardon me," said Cary. "To my mind, love is a sacrifice. Yet the
more you give, the more you gain."

"But I don't want to believ