“What a good idea!” said Elaine. “Well, I don’t know,” said Wilfred. “Joe is a little discouraged. Style seems to be in the ascendant; and good living on the wane!” “I can plant my elbows on the table, and slump down anyhow,” said Elaine. “Do you think they will allow me to smoke?” “We’ll hazard it.” Wilfred insisted on ordering champagne. “How silly in such a place!” objected Elaine. “Oh, no!” he said. “Joe is prepared for it. . . . Besides champagne has a special virtue. It puffs one up.” * * * * * Elaine pushed her plate away. “Wonderful food!” she said. “I’m as full as a tick!” She lit a cigarette. There was no interference. Nearly all the other diners had left now. Wilfred was sitting opposite her with a smile etched around his lips; gazing at her with half-veiled eyes of pleasure. Elaine’s look at him became quizzical. “Why shouldn’t I be happy?” he said reading her thought. “To-night I have had the best of you. Our walk together in the dark; our confidence in each other. If I were your husband I could have nothing better.” Elaine’s smile broadened; and he perceived that she regarded this as mere sentimentalizing. Well, it didn’t matter now. He smiled on. He made no attempt to explain that his exquisite happiness was due to the fact that his heart was big and soft with pain. Impossible to convey such things in words. “Besides, I have confessed myself to you,” he added. “I need hide no longer.” “You are hiding things from me now!” she said. “Things, but not myself.” While she quizzed him, something was working behind it. Her eyes fell. “I wish I could be happy . . . like that,” she murmured. An apprehension of worse to come struck through Wilfred. “You must feel something the same as I,” he said quickly. “Something,” she said. “You’re a dear!” The word chilled Wilfred. He hastened past it. “But not content?” he asked. “Happiness seems to me to leave a bad taste in the mouth,” said Elaine, affecting lightness. An exclamation of dismay was forced from Wilfred. “Oh!” Obscurely he had felt that Elaine was unhappy; but this forced it on his consciousness. He was thrown into confusion. He could scarcely conceive the possibility of pitying the glorious Elaine. She suffering too—but not for him! Still . . . fellows in pain! Compassion welled up in his breast. Compassion is most due to the strong, he felt. “That’s just a phase,” he said quickly. “You knew the feeling of ridiculous happiness when you were a child.” “Oh yes,” she said, “and later than that. That feeling is natural to me.” “It will come back.” “I wonder!” “There’s a cloud over your sun at the moment; that’s all.” “What do you mean?” she asked with a hard look, jealous of her secret.