“A pleasure delayed is twice a pleasure anticipation and realization.” Miss Balfour made a different application of his text, her eyes trained on him with apparent indifference. “I’ve been enjoying a delayed pleasure myself. I went to see her this afternoon.” He did not ask whom, but his eyes brightened. “She’s worth a good deal of seeing, don’t you think?” “Oh, I’m in love with her, but it doesn’t follow you ought to be.” “Am I?”—he smiled. “You are either in love or else you ought to be ashamed of yourself.” “An interesting thing about you is your point of view. Now, anybody else would tell me I ought to be ashamed if I am in love.” “I’m not worried about your morals,” she scoffed. “It’s that poor child I’m thinking of.” “I think of her a good deal, too.” “Ah! and does she think of you a good deal That’s what we must guard against.” “Is it?” “Yes. You see I’m her confidante.” She told it him with sparkling eyes, for the piquancy of it amused her. Not every engaged young woman can hear her lover’s praises sung by the woman whose life he has saved with the proper amount of romance. “Really?” She nodded, laughing at him. “I didn’t get a chance to tell her about me.” “I suppose not.” “I think I’ll tell her about you, though—just what a ruthless barbarian you are.” His eyes gleamed “I wish you would. I’d like to find out whether she would believe you. I have tried to tell her myself, but the honest truth is, I funk it.” “You haven’t any right to let her know you are interested in her.” She interrupted him before he could speak. “Don’t trifle with her, Waring. She’s not like other girls.” He met her look gravely. “I wouldn’t trifle with her for any reason.” Her quick rejoinder overlapped his sentence. “Then you love her!” “Is that an alternative?” “With you—yes.” “Faith, my lady, you’re frank!” “I’m not mealy-mouthed. You don’t think yourself scrupulous, do you?” “I’m afraid I am not.” “I don’t mind so much your being in love with HER, though it’s not flattering to my vanity, but—” She stopped, letting him make the inference. “Do you think that likely?” he asked, the color flushing his face. He wondered how much Aline had told this confidante. Certain specific things he knew she had not revealed, but had she let her guess the situation between them? She compromised with her conscience. “I don’t know. She is romantic—and Simon Harley isn’t a very fertile field for romance, I suppose.” “You would imply?” “Oh, you have points, and nobody knows them better than Waring Ridgway,” she told him jauntily. “But you needn’t play that role to the address of Aline Harley. Try ME. I’m immune to romance. Besides, I’m engaged to you,” she added, laughing at the inconsequence the fact seemed to have for both of them. “I’m afraid I can’t help the situation, for if I’ve been playing a part, it has been an unconscious one.”