“No, I can’t say that you did. The most I can do is to bear it--without the grin.” He seated himself on the edge of the big table and smoked and looked at her reflectively. “I say,” he began at last, “do you see how it’s possible to be in love with two at the same time?” She nodded, smiling a little. “Yes--I--I think--if I hadn’t met someone first--I should have been in love with--someone else.” “That’s something,” he said in his satirical drawl. But he kept his eyes down and his eyelids were trembling. “Do you know,” he went on after a pause full of cigarette smoke, “I’ve been thinking about--caring for two people and that sort of thing. I don’t mind saying to you--you’ll understand, I’m sure--there’s a girl over on the other side----” “I’m _so_ glad!” she exclaimed--and then she wasn’t. “I care for her--in a different way, but it’s quite a real way. And when I go back home, it may be--you know what I wish to say. I’m telling you because I don’t wish you to think I’m disloyal to you”--his expression was half-satirical, half-mournful--“or to her either.” “I appreciate your telling me,” she said. “But I’d have understood, if you hadn’t. I believe I recognise a _man_ when I see him, and--you know that’s what I think you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I dare say I’m much like other people. I show everyone the side that matches the side they show me.” After a moment he went to her and lifted her hand and kissed it. She stood and turned her face, sweet and friendly, up to him. “I’d rather you’d kiss _me_,” she said. He winced and paled and let go her hand. “No, thanks,” he replied. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not.” With this Mr. Barney bustled into the room--no one had ever seen him make a slow movement of any kind. At sight of them standing thus suspiciously, he halted and, as they flushed and moved apart, he laughed in such a way that Nelly felt impelled to explain: “I was talking to Lord Frothingham of my engagement, and he was congratulating me.” “_Bless_ my soul!” ejaculated Barney. “This _is_ news!” “I haven’t had a chance to tell you, father. It’s Mr. Worthington.” Barney seemed depressed. “Well--I guess he’s all right,” he said slowly. “I’ve got nothing against him. But----” “And,” interrupted Nelly, afraid of her father’s frankness, “he was telling me of his engagement.” Barney looked at Frothingham sharply. “American?” he asked, showing that he wouldn’t like it if he got an affirmative answer. “No--a neighbour of ours in England,” replied Frothingham. “Delighted to hear it. You ought to have been married and settled long ago. I still think you’d have done better to sell your farm over there and settle down here in Chicago.” Barney would have scorned to apply such words as estate and plantation to a farm--though he did call his shop an “Emporium.” * * * * *