"I recall Mr. Meramble's shirt-collar and his tie, but not his song." As he spoke, Lawrence laughed. It must be confessed that his laugh was extremely irritating. "Listen," said Prudence. Then, in a veiled, sweet voice, she sang: "Can you keep the bee from ranging, Or the ring-dove's neck from changing? No. Nor fettered love from dying In the knot there's no untying." Lawrence sat so motionless that he almost had an air of rigidity. He continued his straight-ahead stare as he remarked, in an indifferent voice, "Meramble looks like a man who would not only sing like that, but act like that." Prudence did not speak for some moments. Then she said she wondered why men seemed to hate each other so; she never could understand it. "Then what you have not understood may be beyond your comprehension altogether." Here Lawrence drew out another cigar, contemplated it, and then returned it to its case. "How pleasant the water-battery is!" exclaimed Prudence. "Perfectly delightful," was the man's response. Another silence. Then Prudence turned with an indescribable, confiding movement towards her husband. She slowly removed her glove, looking down at it as she did so. She gently and caressingly laid her bared hand in her husband's, which was lying listlessly on his knee. The masculine fingers closed quickly about the feminine ones. But Lawrence did not yet turn his head. He knew that Prudence had moved imperceptibly nearer. Presently he heard a soft whisper, "Dearest." He turned now, and his eyes met a warm glance that was even more thrilling than the word had been. A fire sprang instantly to his eyes as he murmured: "My darling! My darling wife!" She responded to the eager pressure of his hand, the eager brilliance of his eyes. Then she said, with tender gaiety, "It isn't so stupid on the water-battery, after all, is it?" "How can it be stupid where you are?" "Oh, thank you! That's just what I intended you should say, Lawrence. It's so nice not to have you disappoint me." Here the two smiled into each other's eyes; and then Prudence added, "You are never dull, you dear old fellow, only when you choose to be. That's why it's so very, very trying, you know." "But I don't want to try you," Lawrence responded. "Perhaps it's just because you're a man, dear," she said lightly, but still with the sweet warm look in her eyes. "Then I fear I can't help it if the trouble is so deep-seated as that." There was an ardent strain below the lightness in his voice. "Prue," he added, in a half whisper, laughing slightly, "if we were not on the water-battery I'm almost certain I should kiss you." "On the Plaza, for instance?" she asked, with a raising of the brows. "I suppose we look quite ridiculous, as it is. Please throw my mantle over our hands; that is, if you insist on keeping my hand in yours."