"Oh," she exclaimed, disguising her excitement in a smile of surprise, "I do not doubt that, at least so far as _I_ am concerned, I have been friends with more--with less--I mean with more--no, with _less_ intereresting people." "Gracious! it seems to have puzzled you if you have," Henry Rayne said, mischievously, as he saw her color and grow impatient with herself, "you seem at a loss to know on what equality you would put poor Guy's interest" "Now, you needn't teaze, just because I'm dreadfully sleepy and can't talk right; I won't say another word, only--Good-night," and kissing him brusquely on the cheek, she skipped out of the room. But the subject had not dropped through with these remarks. The following day as Honor sat in the library alone, Mr. Rayne bustled in, and sat down beside her, as he said, to read her some interesting item from the morning _Citizen_, but instead of leaving her again, Honor saw that he was lingering in the room purposely. (I wonder if anyone ever yet loitered around a place pretendingly to no purpose without immediately betraying that he was full of purpose.) After Henry Rayne had looked at the titles of several books, and gazed vacantly at the paintings that decorated the walls, and raised the cover of a massive ink-stand just to drop it again, he made a bold stroke and began his subject as though it had only entered his head at that very moment. "Honor," he said somewhat timidly, "I was going to ask you to do something, last night, but you left me so suddenly that I had to put it off." "Oh, I am so sorry," Honor answered, raising her lace frame to her mouth, not to hide her face, but only to bite off an obstinate knot of thread that provoked her. "Is it too late, now?" she queried anxiously, looking at him. "Oh, no; it's not too late. It's about Guy." "Guy?" "Yes." "Why, what can _I_ have to do with Guy?" "Well, I just want you to promise me you will do all you are able. If you do that, I can almost promise you I will never ask you to do me a favor again." The puzzled, asking look in her gray eyes deepened, a curious smile stole round her lips. "I need not tell you how strange this is to me," she said slowly, "you must know that you proposed an enigma which I cannot solve." "Come here, Honor," Mr. Rayne said seriously. She laid down her work and went towards him. He was sitting in a velvet arm-chair, and she knelt beside him, with her white, delicate hands clasped on the ruby upholstering. He put one arm gently around her, and as he smoothed her wavy hair with one hand, he asked her earnestly, "Honor, you know how much good is done in the world by mere contact, do you not?" "Of course I do, Mr. Rayne; good and evil alike have been kept circulating from the beginning by individuals."