But the thought of himself as Mary's cheerer-up at this juncture in her Career was bitterly ironic to Charles, and, answering curtly that he would be too busy to run errands this afternoon, he changed the subject at once. In short, when did Donald go to Wyoming? Unable to resist the opening, Donald said that he would probably start on March 15th; and so began to talk fitfully of himself. At the other window, Charles relapsed into thought. He did not speak again until the car rolled up to the entrance of the showy apartment-hotel where Donald lived. Then, rousing himself abruptly, he said, with a well-done air of negligent sprightliness:-- "Oh, by the by, Donald--heard anything from our little friend in the four-wheeler, as you call it? I haven't laid eyes on her since that day you and I marched up like little soldiers to give back her books. Funny, that was!--ha, ha!" Donald's face of a young man about to be married changed perceptibly. He answered, quite stiffly:-- "I fail to see anything funny in it. Miss Flower's perfectly well, I believe." "Good!--glad to hear it. She needs her health, all the driving about she does.... Why, where'd she see you to-day?" "I didn't say I'd seen her to-day, that I remember. By Jove, I don't get a minute to see anybody or anything, rushed about this way all the time!... Well! Obliged for the lift." "And how do you know she's well, then?" "Because she told me so over the telephone, if you give a darn! What's this about, anyway?" "Why, not a thing! Why, my dear fellow! Of _course_, I understand perfectly! You don't suppose I suspect you of being old Tilletts's rival, do you? Not likely--ha, ha! No, I think it's awfully nice of you, old fellow, knowing as I do that you don't admire her particularly. That's what I wanted to say," proceeded Charles, laying his hand affectionately and detainingly on Donald's arm. "Of course you know she doesn't have much of a time--attention and all that--oh, I see through you perfectly! It's just Talbott and the Oldmixon girls over again--" "Oh, she told me about _you_!" said Donald in a blustering manner; and, snatching his arm away, he sprang out upon the sidewalk. His remark evoked curiosity; but Charles's overweening interest was not in Angela now. And he was thinking intently: "He's not engaged to Helen Carson yet, by a long shot. He's not even at the station--that's a mile--on Washington Street. I'd better keep an eye on you, my buck ..." Aloud he said: "She did?--nothing good, I fear. Here!--wait a minute! That package for Miss Mary, Donald--I expect you'd better leave it for me to take, after all. I'll find some way to get it around to her--" "All right--" "You bring it by as you start for the station, that's the best way. Then we'll drive down together," said Charles, fixing his friend with a compelling gaze. "I've--ah--got some things I want to talk to you about." "I'll bring it by," said Donald, non-committally, and rushed away.