“How do you do?” said Amory, and coming forward, he shook hands warmly. “Please forgive me for being late, but I could not get away a moment before. Where” he looked about the room--“where is Mrs. White?” The girl had risen nervously, and stood with her fingers clasped, looking at him; she answered, stammering, “She--I--she--couldn't come.” “Couldn't come?” repeated the young man. “I'm awfully sorry. Do sit down.” She still stood, holding to the back of her chair. “She said she would come if she could, and I was to--but I had better go.” Amory laughed. “Not a bit of it. Now I've got you, I sha'n't let you go. It was very brave of you to come alone. You know brothers-in-law are presumptuous sometimes.” He smiled down into the soft, shy, dark eyes raised to his, and looked at his watch. “You must have waited a half-hour; I said four o'clock. I'm so sorry.” Her eyes dropped. “I was late, too,” she answered, and felt a horrible weight lifted from her. (They surely could not be coming; she could go in a moment; he would never know until she was beyond his reach. But she reckoned without her host.) “Draw up to the fire,” he began, and wheeled up a big armchair, and gently made her sit in it. “Put your feet on the fender and let's have a long talk. You know I sha'n't see you before the wedding, and I'd like to know something of my brother's wife. Tom said I must see you once before you and he got off to Paris, and I may not be able to get West for the wedding; so this is the one chance I shall have.” He drew his chair near, and looked down at her with friendly, pleasant eyes. She must say something. She rested her head on the high back of her chair, and felt a sensation of bewildered happiness. It was dangerous; she must get away in a moment; but for a moment she might surely enjoy this extraordinary situation that fortune had thrust upon her--the charm of the room, the warmth, and something more wonderful still--companionship. She looked at him; she must say something. “You think you can't come to the wedding?” she said, and blushed. Amory shook his head. “I'm afraid not, though of course I shall try. Now”--he stared gravely at her--“now tell me how you came to know Tom and why you like him. I wonder if it is for my reasons or ones of your own.” He was surprised by the deep blush which answered his words. What a wonderful wild-rose color on her rather pale cheek! “Don't you think it very warm in here?” said the girl. Amory got up, and going to the window, opened it a little; then, stopping at his desk, picked up a note and brought it to the fire. “Why, here is a note from Mrs. White,” he said. “Why didn't you tell me?” She had risen, and laid her hand an instant on his arm. “Don't open it--yet,” she said. Her desperation lent her invention; just in this one way he must not find her out. She gave him a look, half arch, half pleading. “I'll explain later,” she said. Amory felt a stir of most unnecessary emotion; he understood Tom.