Whatever reply May might have made was interrupted by the arrival of a gentleman with an empty teacup. The new-comer was Richard Fairfield, a young man of not much money but of many friends, and of literary aspirations. As he crossed the drawing-room Mrs. Neligage carelessly held out to him her cup and saucer. "As you are going that way, Richard," she said without preface of salutation, "do you mind taking my cup to the table?" "Delighted, of course," he answered, extending his hand for it. "If Mrs. Neligage will permit me," broke in Mr. Bradish, darting forward. "I beg ten thousand pardons for not perceiving--" "But Mrs. Neligage will not permit you, Mr. Bradish," she responded brightly. "I have already commissioned Richard." Fairfield received the cup, and bore it away, while Bradish cast upon the widow a glance of reproach and remonstrance. "You women all pet a rising author," he said. "I suppose it's because you all hope to be put in his books." "Oh, no. On the contrary it is because we hope to be left out." "I don't see," he went on with little apparent relevancy, "why you need begrudge me the pleasure of doing you a small favor." "I don't wish you to get too much into the habit of doing small favors," she responded over her shoulder, as she turned back to the group with which she had been chatting. "I am afraid that if you do, you'll fail when I ask a great one." Fairfield made his way to the table where Alice was dispensing tea. He was by her welcomed cordially, by May with a reserve which was evidently absent-minded regret that he should break in upon her confidences with her cousin. He exchanged with Alice the ordinary greetings, and then made way for a fresh arrival who wished for tea. May responded rather indifferently to his remarks as he took a chair at the end of the sofa upon which she was seated, seeming so absorbed that in a moment he laughed at some irrelevant reply which she gave. "You did not understand what I said," he remarked. "I didn't mean--" "I beg your pardon," she interrupted, turning toward him. "I was thinking of something I was talking about with Alice, and I didn't mind what you did say." "I am sorry that I interrupted." "Oh, everybody interrupts at an afternoon tea," she responded, smiling. "That is what we are here for, I suppose. I was simply in a cloud--" Fairfield returned her smile with interest. "Is that an allusion?" May flushed a little, and put her hand consciously to the carnation at her throat. "Oh, no," she answered, with a little too much eagerness. "I can talk of something beside that book. Though of course," she added, "I do think it is a perfectly wonderful story. There is so much heart in it. Why, I have read it so much that I know parts of it almost word for word." "Then you don't think it is cynical?" "Oh, not the least in the world! How can anybody say that? I am ashamed of you, Mr. Fairfield." "I didn't mean that I thought it cynical; but lots of folk do, you know."