The bridesmaid marked their greeting. She rose with offended dignity and returned to her mother. She says to this day that she has only known one poet, and he was not at all nice, and concludes, after the manner of a certain part of humanity, that none of the rest are nice either. Janet looked at Dale doubtfully, then she led the way to a little room which was free from the crowd. Then she sat down. "I'm very tired," she said, "and I want to stay here and rest. Will you let me?" "I know what you mean, Jan. How can I, when I never have a chance of saying what I want to say to you? You talk to Ripley----" "I don't comfort Gerard Ripley much." "I'm glad to hear it," said Dale heartlessly. "I'm not much troubled about him. I'm only a habit to him." "I don't care twopence about him. Jan, when is this sort of thing to end? Don't you like seeing me?" Janet had made up her mind to treat Dale at first with simple friendliness; if this recipe failed, it was to be followed by distant civility. She answered collectedly enough, in spite of a quiver in her voice: "I thought I had better not see you just now." "Why, in Heaven's name?" "I can't go through it all again. Indeed I can't, Dale." "Do you seriously expect me to be content with what you said then--to go away and never come near you again?" Dale spoke vehemently. It was obvious that the distant civility would be called into play. Perhaps silence was Janet's idea of it, for she said nothing. "Because that's what it comes to," pursued Dale. "Do you imagine, Jan, I could see you now--after it all--except as your lover? What do you want me to do?" "Miss Fane----" began Janet in a very small voice. "I'll never see Nellie Fane again if she robs me of you," Dale declared with great energy, and probably perfect, though unintentional, untruth. Janet looked up and met his eyes. Then she dropped hers, and said, in tones quite unlike those of distant civility: "I wonder how you care for such a mean-spirited creature as I am. If I told you I loved you still--how could you believe me? I told you before, and then I----" "Behaved like a sensible girl." "Oh, no, no. It was a lie when I said----" "Tell me another, then," said Dale. "I like them." Janet's resistance, like Bob Acres' courage, was oozing out of her finger tips. "I know what it will be," she faltered plaintively. "You'll always be thinking about her, and so shall I--and it will be horrible. No, I won't do it. I have some resolution, Dale; it wasn't mere nonsense. I did mean it." "Oh, no," said Dale persuasively; "you never did, Jan. You had no idea how bored you would be without me. Now, had you?" "I can never respect myself again." "It's quite unnecessary, dear; I'll do all that." "Are you really quite--quite sure, Dale, that you will never----" "Oh, hang it all!" said Dale, and he kissed her. "Dale! the door's open." Dale shut it, and the rest of the conversation became inaudible, and remains unknown.