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There were several at the apartment for tea; among them Cullan; an amateur violinist and critic on music whom she especially liked。  For; instead of the dreamy; romantic character his large brown eyes and sensitive features suggested; he revealed in talk and actions a boyish gayetyfree; be it said; from boyish silliness that was most infectious。  His was one of those souls that put us in the mood to laugh at all seriousness; to forget all else in the supreme fact of the reality of existence。  He made her forget that dayforget until Keith's answering telegram interrupted:  ‘‘Next Monday afternoon。''

A week less a day away!  She shrank and trembled at the prospect of relying upon herself alone for six long days。  Every prop had been taken away from her。 Even the dubious prop of the strange; unsatisfactory Keith。  For had he not failed her?  She had said; ‘‘must'' and ‘‘at once''; and he had responded with three words of curt refusal。

After dinner Stanley unexpectedly appeared。  He hardly waited for the necessary formalities of the greeting before he said to Mrs。 Brindley:  ‘‘I want to see Mildred alone。  I know you won't mind; Mrs。 Brindley。 It's very important。''  He laughed nervously but cheerfully。 ‘‘And in a few minutes I'll call you in。  I think I'll have something interesting to tell you。''

Mrs。 Brindley laughed。  With her cigarette in one hand and her cup of after…dinner coffee in the other; she moved toward the door; saying gayly to Mildred:

‘‘I'll be in the next room。  If you scream I shall hear。  So don't be alarmed。''

Stanley closed the door; turned beaming upon Mildred。  Said he:  ‘‘Here's my news。  My missus has got her divorce。''

Mildred started up。

‘‘Yes; the real thing;'' he assured her。  ‘‘Of course I knew what was doing。  But I kept mumdidn't want to say anything to you till I could say everything。 Mildred; I'm free。  We can be married to…morrow; if you will。''

‘‘Then you know about me?'' said she; confused。

‘‘On the way I stopped in to see Keith。  He told me about that skunktold me you were free; too。''

Mildred slowly sat down。  Her elbows rested upon the table。  There was her bare forearm; slender and round; and her long; graceful fingers lay against her cheek。  The light from above reflected charmingly from the soft waves and curves of her hair。  ‘‘You're lovelysimply lovely!'' cried Stanley。  ‘‘Mildred darlingyou WILL marry me; won't you?  You can go right on with the career; if you like。  In fact; I'd rather you would; for I'm frightfully proud of your voice。  And I've changed a lot since I became sincerely interested in you。  The other sort of life and people don't amuse me any more。  Mildred; say you'll marry me。  I'll make you as happy as the days are long。''

She moved slightly。  Her hand dropped to the table。

‘‘I guess I came down on you too suddenly;'' said he。  ‘‘You look a bit dazed。''

‘‘No; I'm not dazed;'' replied she。

‘‘I'll call Mrs。 Brindley in; and we'll all three talk it over。''

‘‘Please don't;'' said she。  ‘‘I've got to think it out for myself。''

‘‘I know there isn't anyone else;'' he went on。  ‘‘So; I'm suredead sure; Mildred; that I can teach you to love me。''

She looked at him pleadingly。  ‘‘I don't have to answer right away?''

‘‘Certainly not;'' laughed he。  ‘‘But why shouldn't you?  What is there against our getting married? Nothing。  And everything for it。  Our marriage will straighten out all thethe little difficulties; and you can go ahead with the singing and not bother about money; or what people might say; or any of those things。''

‘‘II've got to think about it; Stanley;'' she said gently。  ‘‘I want to do the decent thing by you and by myself。''

‘‘You're afraid I'll interfere in the careerwon't want you to go on?  Mildred; I swear I'm''

‘‘It isn't that;'' she interrupted; her color high。 ‘‘The truth is'' she faltered; came to a full stop cried; ‘‘Oh; I can't talk about it to…night。''

‘‘To…morrow?'' he suggested。

‘‘Idon't know;'' she stammered。  ‘‘Perhaps to… morrow。  But it may be two or three days。''

Stanley looked crestfallen。  ‘‘That hurts; Mildred;''

he said。  ‘‘I was SO full of it; so anxious to be entirely happy; and I thought you'd fall right in with it。 Something to do with money?  You're horribly sensitive about money; dear。  I like that in you; of course。 Not many women would have been as square; would have taken as littleand worked hardand thought and cared about nothing but making good  By Jove; it's no wonder I'm stark crazy about YOU!''

She was flushed and trembling。  ‘‘Don't;'' she pleaded。  ‘‘You're beating me down into the dust。  I I'm''  She started up。  ‘‘I can't talk to…night。 I might say things I'd be  I can't talk about it。  I must''

She pressed her lips together and fled through the hall to her own room; to shut and lock herself in。  He stared in amazement。  When he heard the distant sound of the turning key he dropped to a chair again and laughed。  Certainly women were queer creatures always doing what one didn't expect。  Still; in the end well; a sensible woman knew a good chance to marry and took it。  There was no doubt a good deal of pretense in Mildred's delicacy as to money mattersbut a devilish creditable sort of pretense。  He liked the ladylike; ‘‘nice'' pretenses; of women of the right sort liked them when they fooled him; liked them when they only half fooled him。

Presently he knocked on the door of the little library; opened it when permission came in Cyrilla's voice。  She was reading the evening paperhe did not see the glasses she hastily thrust into a drawer。  In that soft light she looked a scant thirty; handsome; but for his taste too intellectual of type to be attractiveexcept as a friend。

‘‘Well;'' said he; as he lit a cigarette and dropped the match into the big copper ash…bowl; ‘‘I'll bet you can't guess what I've been up to。''

‘‘Making love to Miss Stevens;'' replied she。  ‘‘And very foolish it is of you。  She's got a steady head in that way。''

‘‘You're mighty right;'' said he heartily。  ‘‘And I admire her for that more than for anything else。  I'd trust her anywhere。''

‘‘You're paying yourself a high compliment;'' laughed Cyrilla。

‘‘How's that?'' inquired he。  ‘‘You're too subtle for me。  I'm a bit slow。''

Mrs。 Brindley decided against explaining。  It was not wise to risk raising an unjust doubt in the mind of a man who fancied that a woman who resisted him would be adamant to every other man。  ‘‘Then I've got to guess again?'' said she。

‘‘I've been asking her to marry me;'' said Stanley; who could contain it no longer。  ‘‘Mrs。 B。 was released from me to…day by the court in Providence。''

‘‘But SHE'S not free;'' said Cyrilla; a little severely。

Stanley looked confused; finally said:  ‘‘Yes; she is。 It's a queer story。  Don't say anything。  I can't explain。  I know I can trust you to keep a close mouth。''

‘‘Minding my own business is my one supreme talent;'' said Cyrilla。

‘‘She hasn't accepted mein so many words;'' pursued Baird; ‘‘but I've hopes that it'll come out all right。''

‘‘Naturally;'' commented Cyrilla dryly。

‘‘I know I'm notnot objectionable to her。  And how I do love her!''  He settled himself at his ease。 ‘‘I can't believe it's really me。  I never thought I'd marryjust for love。  Did you?''

‘‘You're very self…indulgent;'' said Cyrilla。

‘‘You mean I'm marrying her because I can't get her any other way。  There's where you're wrong; Mrs。 Brindley。  I'm marrying her because I don't want her any other way。  That's why I know it's love。  I didn't think I was capable of it。  Of course; I've been rather strong after the ladies all my life。  You know how it is with men。''

‘‘I do;'' said Mrs。 Brindley。

‘‘No; you don't either;'' retorted he。  ‘‘You're one of those cold; stand…me…off women who can't comprehend the nature of man。''

‘‘As you please;'' said she。  In her eyes there was a gleam that more than suggested a possibility of some mansome man she might fancyseeing an amazingly different Cyrilla Brindley。

‘‘I may say I was daft about pretty women;'' continued Baird。  ‘‘I never read an item about a pretty woman in the papers; or saw a picture of a pretty woman that I didn't wish I knew herwell。  Can you imagine that?'' laughed he。

‘‘Commonplace;'' said Cyrilla。  ‘‘All men are so。 That's why the papers always describe the woman as pretty and why the pictures are published。''

‘‘Really?  Yes; I suppose so。''  Baird looked chagrined。  ‘‘Anyhow; here I am; all for one woman。 And why?  I can't explain it to myself。  She's pretty; lovely; entrancing sometimes。  She has charm; grace; sweetness。  She dresses well and carries herself with a kind of sweet haughtiness。  She looks as if she knew a lotand nothing bad。  Do you know; I can't imagine her having been married to that beast!  I've tried to imagine it。  I simply can't。''

‘‘I shouldn't try if I were you;'' said Mrs。 Brindley。

‘‘But I was talking about why I love her。  Does this bore you?''

‘‘A little;'' laughed Cyrilla。  ‘‘I'd rather hear some man talking about MY charms。  But go on。  You are amusing; in a way。''

‘‘I'll wager I am。  You never thought I'd be caught? I believed I was immunevaccinated against it。 I thought I knew all the tricks and

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