"I'm in New York for two weeks. Denny's in Chicago and I join him there. Let me see--where can we meet? Will you come to my flat?" "Yes; and in a few days I shall have my own rooms. I want to see you there, too, Rose Darragh." "I'll come. This is my address. Will you come to-morrow at four?" Hagar went. Denny had written that the two lived "handy to their work," and it was apparent that they did. The flat had the dignity of Spartan simplicity. In it Rose Darragh moved with the fire of the ruby. "Denny had to go about the paper. Oh, it's doing well, the paper! It's Denny's idol. He serves in the temple day and night, and when the idol asks it, he'll give his heart's blood.... You liked Denny very much, didn't you?--in Nassau, three years ago?" "Yes, I did." They were sitting in the plain, bare room, attractive, for it was so clean, the late autumn sunlight streaming in at the curtainless windows. "Yes, I did. I liked him so well that ... I had somewhat of a fight with myself.... I am telling you that," said Hagar, "because I want your friendship. It is over now, nor do I think it will come again." Rose Darragh gave her a swift look from heel to head. "That's strength. I like strength.... All right! I'm not afraid." They sat in silence for a moment; then, "I wish you'd tell me," said Hagar, "about your work." A very few days after this she took possession of the apartment, and at once made it a home. There was a housewarming with Rachel and Betty and Charley and Elizabeth and Marie and the Josslyns, and two pleasant gentlemen, her publishers, and a fellow-writer or two whom she was by way of knowing and liking, and an artist, and an old scholar and philosopher whom she had known abroad and loved and honoured. And there was Thomasine, a little worn and faded, but with happiness stealing over her, and Mary Magazine busy with the cakes and ale. There couldn't have been a better housewarming.