The sharp ringing of the door bell cut in upon her dream, and stage and great orchestra vanished together with Marguerite-who-needed-no-wig. She went to the door with a feeling of irritation. Who—— A tall, brown figure, somewhat leaner and older looking. Eyes that were clear—— “_Grant!_” she cried. With no more thought than a snowflake takes to melt, she was in his arms, and their lips met in a kiss that stopped and sighed, then began again. “We’d better close the door,” said Grant. In the little pause while he preserved appearances by shutting them in the apartment, she put herself away from him, a little breathless, her hair slipping down about her shoulders. “_What made me do that?_” she trembled; he was turning to her again, and she drew away farther and kept the distance between them while leaving the hall. “Joy——” The living room gained, he had come up to her again and was stroking her hair. “I’ve thought everything all out—oh, I’ve thought of nothing else—and everything’s clear in my mind now. Darling—I want you to marry me just as soon as you can.” She stared up at him without meaning, her brain a tumult of horror about which revolved the question: “_What made me do that?_” “I’ve thought it all out—and now I know—I was a fool to judge you by anything but my own love. I—want you, Joy.” She jerked her head, and his caressing fingers tore her hair. “Go away, Grant, go and sit down far away from me—so we can talk this out—impartially!” “Impartially! What’s there to talk out—impartially? Joy—I don’t know what I was thinking of, that night. To even question you—after what we had been, to each other——It’s all come clear to me, in these weeks of being without you.” “Let me hope for your sake—that it won’t take as long for you to get other facts in life clear to you—as it did, this!” “I called you up before—and they said you were ill. Of course I knew that just meant you wouldn’t see me. So I waited—and took a chance on coming unannounced.” “I _was_—ill. I would have seen you—I waited for you, after I was better——” “Joy! You were really ill? Why didn’t you send for me?” “Why would I have had to? Others—came without being sent for.” With a hissing intake of breath she drew away from him again, putting the table between them. “Why, Joy, what’s the matter, dear? You’re acting as if I were a wild beast.” She moved to the piano and sat on the bench before it. “No, Grant—I’m merely—protecting myself against myself. When I saw you so suddenly—after I thought I’d never see you again;—sit down there a minute—I’ve got to get all this straight.” He obeyed with a frown. “I don’t understand.” “Neither—did—I. But now I do! Now I do!” She threw back her head, and looked at him impersonally. “Grant, you’ve come back too late. I’ve learned to do without you.” He made an impatient motion as if to brush her words away. “Do you expect me to believe that—after what happened a minute ago?”