_H._ (_aside_). I was getting on so well. (_Lightly._) Oh, party calls, you know, and—— _E._ (_dryly_). You will find that _customs_ have not changed so much in four years. It is still unusual to pay party calls in advance. _H._ (_aside_). That was a brilliant way to recoup my falling fortunes! (_Boldly._) Is this an indirect way of blaming me for coming this afternoon? (_Rising._) I suppose it was unwise. (_Aside._) I should rather think it was. (_Aloud._) I will go now—Esther. _E._ (_quickly_). You know, Harold, I did not mean anything so rude. Do not go—unless you must. _H._ (_aside_). I must—theoretically. But I sha’nt—not after that “Harold.” If I hadn’t prided myself for years on its being inalienable property, I should say I was losing my head. (_Aloud._) Will you tell me more of your four years? _E._ (_seriously_). Yes. I have grown wise. I have grown hard—a little. _H._ (_softly_). You were hard before—a little. _E._ Are they not the same—wisdom and hardness? I have learned to believe that they are. _H._ (_impulsively_). Not always. _E._ And I, too, have acquired the sense of proportion. I have seen that—that—Love is not all the world. I have learned that the comfortable is more to be desired than gold—yea, than fine gold. _H._ Yes; Gold and Love must both be tried in the furnace, which is seldom a comfortable operation. _E._ And you—do you not agree with me? Is it not better to look on? _H._ So long as it is not at another’s happiness that one has desired for one’s self—yes. _E._ (_aside_). How if it be another’s unhappiness, I wonder. Poor Dr. Tennant. (_Sighs._) _H._ (_aside_). I shall make an ass of myself in a moment. She is not changed an atom. (_Aloud._) But what leaves of wisdom have you steeped for me? I expected a cup of tea, and you have given me a decoction that should heal all disappointments. _E._ (_half sadly_). If I had known I possessed such a secret I should have brewed some for myself before this. But (_rising_) if you expected a cup of tea you shall have it. _H._ (_eagerly_). By Jove! Esther! I beg pardon—but Miss Van Dyke, I beg of you—— (_Stops helplessly._) _E._ I was just about to send for it for myself. (_She rings. Aside._) I see it all. He has come a day too soon. And he would have had me believe that he cared to see me alone. And I was actually growing sentimental. He shall pay for it. (_Enter a maid._) Tea, Mary Ann. _H._ (_who has been fidgeting about the room—aside_). If only I had gone half an hour ago—in the flush of triumph, as it were! It was unnecessary, in order to avoid making a sentimental spectacle of myself, to fall back upon the larder! _E._ (_going back to table and taking up a letter_). Do you know what I was doing when you came this afternoon? _H._ Learning a new Kensington stitch? Studying a receipt-book? Putting a man out of his misery by letter? These are, I believe, some departments of “woman’s work.”