"Do you fancy I show signs of feeble-mindedness?"

"No, emphatically not; but--Jove, you are human then after all! I begin to have hope."

Roberts stifled a yawn, a real yawn.

"I think I'll turn in," he said.

"Just a moment, Darley. I feel as though I'd discovered a gold mine, and I want to blaze its location before departing. Just when, with your philosophy, do you contemplate taking this important leap among the attached?"

Roberts looked at his companion in silence.

"Pardon me, Darley," swiftly, "that was flippant, I admit, but I'm really serious."

"Serious? I'll take you at your word. It'll be when I mean business, not pastime. Stretch the tape if you wish. There are some things it doesn't pay to play with. It'll be when I can give a woman the things, the material things, she wants and demands to make her happy and contented.

The world is artificial, and material things are its reflection. When I can make the woman who chooses to marry me pa.s.s current anywhere, when I can be the means of giving her more pleasure, more opportunity, more of the good things of life than she has known before, then, when I know, not hope, this,--and not a minute before--Does that answer your question?"

"Yes; that's clear enough, I'm sure--the implication, too, for that matter." The speaker yawned, unnecessarily it seemed, for his look was keen. "By the way, though, you haven't given me a satisfactory explanation for avoiding Elice. She's attached practically, not unattached; and I personally want you to know her. I think it would make you understand some things you don't understand now. You might even approve of--dangling. What do you say, will you go out with me some evening or will you have another engagement as usual? I shan't suggest it again, Darley."

Standing, as he had risen a moment before, Darley Roberts looked down at the speaker steadily, the distinctive half-smile of tolerant a.n.a.lysis upon his lips. He laughed outright as though to clear the atmosphere.

"Certainly I'll go, Armstrong, if you wish. It never occurred to me before that you took it that way. I had supposed that you and Elice were an example of two being a company and three making a crowd; also, to change the simile, that previously your invitations were the proverbial crumbs of charity. I'll be pleased to go any time you wish."

"All right." Armstrong too had risen. "How about Sunday evening next week? Elice will be back Sat.u.r.day."

"A week from Sunday; I shall not forget."

With the att.i.tude of a big healthy animal, a bit sleepy now, Roberts stretched himself luxuriously, then started for his own room adjoining, calling back, "Good-night."

Armstrong watched him in silence until the other's hand was on the k.n.o.b.

"Good-night," he echoed absently.

CHAPTER II

UNDERSTANDING

"What is it, Elice? You're transparent as spring water. Out with it."

"Out with what, Steve?"

"The secret information of vital importance that you're holding back with an effort for a favorable moment to deliver. The present isn't particularly dramatic, I'll admit, but it's the best circ.u.mstances permit."

"You're simply absurd, Steve; more so than usual."

"No, merely ordinarily observant. I've known you some time, and the symptoms are infallible. When you get that absent, beyond-earth look in your eyes, and sit twisting around and around that mammoth diamond ring your uncle gave you on your sixteenth birthday--Come, I'm impatient from the toes up. Who is engaged now?"

"No one, so far as I know."

"Married, then; don't try to fool me."

"Who told you, Steve Armstrong?"

"No one." The accompanying laugh was positively boyish. "I knew it was one or the other. Come, 'fess up. I'll be good, honest."

"You get younger every day, Steve," grudgingly. "If you keep on going backward people will be taking me for your mother soon instead of--merely myself."

"You shouldn't go away then, Elice. I'm tickled sick and irresponsible almost to have you back. I'm not to blame. But we're losing valuable time. I'm listening."

"You swear that you don't know already--that you aren't merely making fun of me?"

"On my honor as full professor of chemistry. I haven't even a suspicion."

"I wonder if you are serious--somehow I never know. I'll risk it anyway, and if you're just leading me on I'll never forgive you, Steve, never.

It's Margery."

"Margery! The deuce it is--and Harry Randall, of course."

"Certainly. Who'd you think it was: Professor Wilson with his eight children?"

"Now I call that unkind, Elice. After all the interest I've shown, too!

Honest, though, I am struck all in a heap. I never dreamed of such a thing--now."

The result of the revelation was adequate and Miss Gleason relented.

"It was rather 'sudden,' as they say. No one knew of it except their own families."

"Sudden! I should decidedly say so. I certainly thought they at least were to be depended upon, were standbys. When did it happen?"

"Last evening. Agnes Simpson just told me before you came."

"She did, did she? I thought she looked wondrous mysterious when I met her down the street. It was justifiable, though, under the circ.u.mstances.

I suppose they, the Randalls, have gone away somewhere?"

"No; that's the funny part of it. They haven't gone and aren't going."

"Not at all?"

"No. I'm quoting Agnes."

"And why aren't they going? Did Agnes explain that?"

"Steve, you're horrid again."

"No; merely curious this time. Agnes is something of an authority, you'll admit."