“Oh, Avis,” I exclaimed with vexation, “I thought you were Mona again. I supposed you were on the other side of the world.” “I was, but I have come back to sing for you. I heard poor Mona had lost her voice and I wanted to do what I could to fill her place. But I fear you are not pleased with me.” “My dear friend,” I replied, “I beg your pardon for the abrupt manner in which I received you. I thought Mona had suddenly recovered her voice and was coming in the fullness of her joy to tell me about it, and you can imagine my disappointment when I discovered my mistake. But now I assure you I am glad to have your sympathy and delighted to know that you are to be near me. Please go on with the song which I so rudely interrupted, and let me hear your voice as often as possible. It is exceedingly fortunate for me to have you here while Mona is recovering. Will you stay till she can sing again, or do you think it is too selfish in me to make such a request?” Instead of answering me, Avis began to sing again, and in a twinkling I had forgotten my question and everything else in the enjoyment of the moment. I now wanted little to make me supremely happy. There was Mona herself, with her exquisite beauty and friendly manner, and there was Mona’s voice in the mouth of one who liked me enough to go half around the world to entertain me. And, if the truth must be told, my heart inclined more and more toward the voice. This was a startling truth indeed when it first fell upon me, and I fully determined that no one else should know it. Mona should never discover that I loved her less because she could not sing, and Avis should never know that her marvelous song was beginning to make the singer dear to me. Whenever I found myself alone I could think of nothing but this perplexing subject. As I dwelt upon my situation, I told myself I must be careful, and avoid getting into trouble. Mona was becoming more and more tender toward me every day, and now Avis had come, unconsciously storming the seat of my affections with Mona’s own voice. I felt that I was in some danger of embarrassing myself before the rest of my friends, and it behooved me to simplify matters if possible. First, I must find out to a certainty just how I stood with Mona. Notwithstanding the admission which I had been forced to make to myself, I felt that it must be right for me to continue to devote myself to Mona, even if my heart did not bound toward her as in the days of my exuberant love. I should indeed be unworthy of her to give her up now. When I considered my former depth of feeling, I fairly despised myself for entertaining for a moment the possibility of her becoming less dear to me. But, for all that, I knew deep in my heart that the charm which had held me to her was gone, and I knew of no way to arrest and bring back my wandering affections.