“You see I waited for you,” he said, gracefully raising his hat; “but, Helen, what has happened? Why, what is the matter?” “Nothing,” she said; “nothing at all.” “But,” he went on, frowning in perplexity as he suited his step to hers, “I never saw any one in my life change so suddenly. Why, when you went into that office you were simply a picture of despair, but now you look as if you were bursting with happiness. Your face is flushed, your eyes are fairly dancing. Helen, if I thought--” He paused, his own color rising, a deeper frown darkening his brow. “If you thought what?” she asked, with a little irritation. “Oh”--he knocked a stone out of his way with his umbrella--“what's the use denying it! I'm simply jealous. I'm only a natural human being, and I suppose I'm jealous.” “You have no cause to be,” she said, and then she bit her lip with vexation at the slip of the tongue. Why should she defend herself to him? She had never said she loved him. She had not yet consented to marry him. Besides, she was in no mood to gratify his vanity. She wanted simply to be alone with the boundless delight she was allowed to share with no one but--Carson--Carson!--the one who had, for _her sake_, made the sharing of it possible. “Well, I am uneasy, and I can't help it,” Sanders went on, gloomily. “How can I help it? You left me so sad and depressed that you had hardly a word for me, and after seeing this Mr. Dwight you come out looking--do you know,” he broke off, “that you were there alone with that fellow nearly an hour?” “Oh no, it couldn't have been so long,” she said, further irritated by his open defence of what he erroneously considered his rights. “But it was, for I timed you,” Sanders affirmed. “Heaven knows I counted the actual minutes. There is a lot about this whole thing I don't like, but I hardly know what it is.” “You are not only jealous but suspicious,” Helen said, sharply. “Those are things I don't like in any man.” “I've offended you, but I didn't mean to,” Sanders said, with a sudden turn towards precaution. “You'll forgive me, won't you, Helen?” “Oh yes, it's all right.” She had suddenly softened. “Really, I am sorry you feel hurt. Don't think any more about it. I have a reason which I can't explain for feeling rather cheerful just now.” They had reached the next street corner and she patised. “I want to go by Cousin Ida's. She lives down this way.” “And you'd rather I didn't go along?” “I have something particular to say to her.” “Oh, I see. Then may I come as usual this afternoon?” Her wavering, half-repentant glance fell. “Not this afternoon,” she said. “I ought to be with mammy. Couldn't you call this evening?” “It will seem a long time to wait in this dreary place, with nothing to occupy me,” he said; “but I shall be well repaid. So I may come this evening?” “Oh yes, I shall expect you then,” and Helen turned and left him.