“I remember.” He looked at her, ashamed and sorry that he had had no active part in this charming fruition. Or, rather, it was as yet merely a delicate promise with blossoms still chastely folded. No flower yet. “It’s plain enough,” he said, “that you’ve never lost a moment in self-improvement since you went away nearly a year ago.” “Being with Betsy taught me so much. And Frank Donnell is so wise and gentle.... But _you_ began it all----” “Began what?” he demanded. “I told you that you were the first man of _your_ kind I had ever met. That night--in the Park--it was just exactly as though I had gone to sleep deaf, dumb, and blind, and waked up possessed of every faculty----” “You’re loyal to the point of obstinacy,” he interrupted. “You owe absolutely nothing to me. All I did was to fail you----” “Please don’t say that, Mr. Annan; you--annoy me when you do----” “I didn’t believe in you. I deserted you----” “Please--you _hurt_ me--when you speak that way----” “I didn’t even continue to write----” “You were too busy with important things----” “Eris! Are you really going to overlook my rotten behaviour?” They both had become nervously excited, although their voices were low. Her protesting hand hesitated toward his arm; his fists were clenched in his pockets,--effort at self restraint: “You’re so square and decent,” he said. “When I saw you I realised what a rotter I’d been. You ought to have cut me dead to-night----” “Oh,” she said with a swift intake of breath and her hovering hand a moment on his arm. After a long silence: “All right,” he said almost grimly. He looked up, laughed: “I’m yours, Eris. Everybody else seems to be, too.” Her face, clearing, flushed swiftly, and she gave him a confused look. “I shan’t tease,” he said,--back on the old footing in a twinkling, “--but you do seem to be popular with people. Isn’t it a rather agreeable feeling?” “Yes.... I want to tell you----” She hesitated, laughed hopelessly. “I’m so excited, Mr. Annan, I don’t know how to begin. Why, the things I have to tell you--and the things I have to ask you--would take a year to utter----” “All the time you’ve been away?” he inquired gaily. “That must be it. Every day they accumulated. I needed you....” She checked herself, breathless, smiling, the colour bright in her cheeks. “All you have done and are doing,” she said, half to herself, “I have so longed to hear about. All I have tried to do I was crazy to tell you about.... And now--I can’t think--remember----” “We must make another engagement.” “Please!... I was so unhappy about the other one----” “What hour can you give me, Eris?” To _give_ had been _his_ perquisite heretofore. She seemed to so consider it, still. “Could you spare me a little time to-morrow?” she asked, almost timidly. “Would you dine with me?” She said naïvely: “Couldn’t we see each other before to-morrow night? It seems so long----”