"Not if she cares to," is the answer, in a tone of reluctance that is quite lost upon the younger. He realizes that he has hardly courage for a direct prohibition when Eugene has just begun to show himself brotherly. Violet is out driving with Cecil. He hurries up to the Latimers'. She has been there and gone, and there is no more time if he catches his train, and not to do it might be to lose immeasurably. But to go without a good-by to her or Cecil, and the old thought, the ghost that haunts every untoward parting, if he should never see them again, unmans him for an instant. What folly! Why, he is growing as fearful as a young lover. He writes a brief farewell in pencil, and lays it on her table. She shall decide about the party herself, but he longs for a kiss, for one look into her lovely, untroubled eyes. Violet does not return until luncheon is on the table. Eugene is looking out for her. "Floyd had to go," he begins. "There was some important business, and he had to make a Baltimore connection, but he scoured the town to find you, and was awfully sorry." It does not occur to Violet that there is anything unusual in his sudden departure, since it is not the first time he has gone with a very brief announcement. A thrill of satisfaction speeds through her at the thought of his wishing to find her, and she is truly very sorry that he should miss anything of the slightest consequence to him. "I ought not have stayed," she says, with tender regret. "But I remembered I had promised to call on Miss Kirkbride, and I wanted to before I met her to-night. Oh----" and she pauses in vague questioning. "That is all right. Floyd engaged me for your loyal knight and true," announces Eugene, in a confident tone, bowing ludicrously low. Violet laughs, then a faint pink is added to the color in her cheek. It is like her husband's thoughtful ways. "I am not sure I ought to go. Why, I have never been out without Mr. Grandon," she says, in alarm. "Well, he has often been out without you," returns Eugene, with what he considers comforting frankness. "And then--it wouldn't do at all, you see. Mother is away, and there is not a single member of the family to do honor to Marcia, for if you remained at home I should stay to keep you company. And Marcia made a great point of our coming." She has been pulling off her gloves, and now goes slowly up-stairs. Cecil has run on before and Jane is busy with her, but she calls eagerly as Violet passes through the hall. There lays the note on her table, a fond farewell to her and Cecil, a kiss to each, and regrets that he must go in such haste, but not a word about the party. "I am all ready first," announces Cecil, coming in, attired in a fresh white dress. "Yes, my darling. That is from papa," as she stoops and kisses her, "who has had to go away without a bit of good-by."