A chance acquaintance joined him, changing his step to suit that of Morris, and talked with him on the prospects of the next year being a good business season in the United States. Morris answered rather absent-mindedly, and it was nearly lunch-time before he had an opportunity of going back to see whether or not Miss Earle’s companion had left. When he reached the spot where they had been sitting he found things the very reverse of what he had hoped. Miss Earle’s chair was vacant, but her companion sat there, idly turning over the leaves of the book that Miss Earle had been reading. “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Morris?” said the young woman, looking up at him with a winning smile. “Miss Earle has gone to dress for lunch. I should do the same thing, but, alas! I am too indolent.” Morris hesitated for a moment, and then sat down beside her. “Why do you act so perfectly horrid to me?” asked the young lady, closing the book sharply. “I was not aware that I acted horridly to anybody,” answered Morris. “You know well enough that you have been trying your very best to avoid me.” “I think you are mistaken. I seldom try to avoid any one, and I see no reason why I should try to avoid you. Do you know of any reason?” The young lady blushed and looked down at her book, whose leaves she again began to turn. “I thought,” she said at last, “that you might have some feeling against me, and I have no doubt you judge me very harshly. You never _did_ make any allowances.” Morris gave a little laugh that was half a sneer. “Allowances?” he said. “Yes, allowances. You know you always were harsh with me, George, always.” And as she looked up at him her blue eyes were filled with tears, and there was a quiver at the corner of her mouth. “What a splendid actress you would make, Blanche,” said the young man, calling her by her name for the first time. She gave him a quick look as he did so. “Actress!” she cried. “No one was ever less an actress than I am, and you know that.” “Oh, well, what’s the use of us talking? It’s all right. We made a little mistake, that’s all, and people often make mistakes in this life, don’t they, Blanche?” “Yes,” sobbed that young lady, putting her dainty silk handkerchief to her eyes. “Now, for goodness sake,” said the young man, “don’t do that. People will think I am scolding you, and certainly there is no one in this world who has less right to scold you than I have.” “I thought,” murmured the young lady, from behind her handkerchief, “that we might at least be friends. I didn’t think you could ever act so harshly towards me as you have done for the past few days.” “Act?” cried the young man. “Bless me, I haven’t acted one way or the other. I simply haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you till the other evening, or morning, which ever it was. I have said nothing, and done nothing. I don’t see how I could be accused of acting, or of anything else.”