Roma had drawn so close to him that she could speak in an undertone. She locked her jeweled fingers nervously together now in her lap, and lifted her great eyes to his, full of piercing reproach, murmuring sadly: "It does not matter to me either way, Jesse. I have lost interest in everything, now that you have turned against me!" It was most embarrassing, her pathetic grief, and it touched his manly heart with deepest pity. "My dear girl, I am sorry you take our estrangement so hardly! Believe me, I have not turned against you, as you think. I am still sincerely your friend," he answered, most kindly. But the great red-brown eyes searched his face with passion. "Oh, Jesse, I do not want your friendship! I want your love--the love I threw away in the madness of a moment! Give it back to me!" she cried, with outstretched hands pleading to him. Impulsively he took one of the jeweled hands in his, holding it nervously yet kindly while he said: "It is cruel kindness to undeceive you, Roma, but I cannot let you go on hoping for what can never be! You never had my heart's love, Roma. It was only an ephemeral fancy that is long since dead. I thought you wished to flirt with me, and I entered into it with languid amusement. Somehow--I never can quite understand how--I drifted into a proposal. I regretted it directly afterward, and realized that my heart was not really interested. You broke our engagement, and I was glad of it. Forgive my frankness and let us be friends!" But her face dropped into her hands with a choking sob, her whole frame shaking with emotion, and he could only gaze upon her in silent sympathy, feeling himself a brute that he could not give the love she craved. Roma remained several moments in this attitude of hopeless grief, then, rising with her handkerchief to her eyes, glided slowly past him--so slowly that he might have clasped her in outstretched arms had he chosen. But he remained mute and motionless, sorrow and sympathy in his heart, but nothing more. Sobbing forlornly, Roma passed him by, and went to her own room. There Dolly had an exhibition of her imperious temper, culminating in a threat to slap her face. Dolly's quick temper flamed up, and she retorted fiercely: "Slap me if you dare, and I'll leave your service on the spot! Yes, and I'll go and tell Mr. Devereaux the fate of his letter to Liane Lester, too! I--I--wish I hadn't never had anything to do with you, either. I'm sorry I treated sweet Liane so mean! She was a heap nicer than you!" Roma turned around quickly, holding out a pretty ring with a little diamond in it. "Don't leave me, Dolly; at least, not yet," she sighed mournfully. "I'm sorry I was cross to you. Forgive me, and let's be friends again. Take this little ring to remember me, for I shall never need it after to-night!" "What do you mean, Miss Roma?" cried the girl, slipping the ring coquettishly over her finger, but Roma threw herself face downward on a sofa without replying.