"She could not so play with me if she meant to be cruel, for she has not a feline trait," I murmured, as I pulled on my ulster. "This genial day has been my ally, and she has not the heart to embitter it. So far from finding 'other interests,' she must have seen that time has intensified the one chief interest of my life. Oh, it would be like death to be sent away again. How beautiful she has become in her renewed health! Her great spiritual eyes make me more conscious of the woman-angel within her than of a flesh-and-blood girl. Human she is indeed, but never of the earth, earthy. Even when I take her hand, now again so plump and pretty, I feel the exquisite thrill of her life within. It's like touching a spirit, were such a thing possible. I crushed her hand this morning, brute that I was! It's been red all day. Well, Heaven speed me now!" "What! talking to yourself again, Mr. Morton?" asked Miss Warren, suddenly appearing, and looking anything but spirit-like, with her rich color and substantial wraps. "It's a habit of lonely people," I said. "The idea of a man being lonely among such crowds as you must meet!" "I have yet to learn that a crowd makes company." "Wouldn't you like to ask Mr. Yocomb to go with us?" "No," I replied, very brusquely. "I fear your lamblike mood is passing away." "Not at all. Moreover, I'm a victim of remorse--I hurt your hand this morning." "Yes, you did." "I've hurt you a great many times." "I'm alive, thank you, and have had a good dinner." "Yes, you are very much alive. Are you very amiable after dinner?" "No; that's a trait belonging to men alone. I now understand your lamblike mood. But where are you going, Mr. Morton? You are walking at random, and have brought up against the barn." "Oh, I see. Wouldn't you like to visit Old Plod again?" "No, I thank you; he has forgotten me." "By the way, we are friends, are we not, and can be very confidential?" "If you have any doubt, you had better be prudent and reticent." "I wish I could find some sweetbrier; I'd give you the whole bush." "Do you think I deserve a thorny experience?" "You know what I think. When was there an hour when you did not look through me as if I were glass. But we are confidential friends, are we not?" "Well, for the sake of argument we may imagine ourselves such." "To be logical, then, I must tell you something of which I have not yet spoken to any one. I called on Adah the evening I learned she was in town, and I saw her enter an elegant coupe driven by a coachman in stunning livery. A millionaire of your acquaintance accompanied her." "What!" she exclaimed, her face becoming fairly radiant. I nodded very significantly. "For shame, Mr. Morton! What a gossip you are!" but her laugh rang out like a chime of silver bells. At that moment Mr. Yocomb appeared on the piazza, and he applauded loudly, "Good for thee, Emily," he cried, "that sounds like old times."