“Then I will come, dearest.” This conversation had been held, almost in whispers, as Sappha was supposed to be showing Leonard some of the _Yule Klap_ offerings she was preparing. Then the young men went away together, but the ocean between them could not really have set them more apart. St. Ange made several attempts to open a conversation on _Yule Klap_. He wanted Leonard’s advice about the gifts most suitable; but Leonard professed both ignorance and indifference concerning a game so childish; and at Vaarick Street St. Ange, having failed completely to evoke anything like friendly intercourse, bid him good-morning. He was worried over his friend’s evident displeasure; and over his own failure to either account for or dispel it. He went westward to Greenwich Street, and having made many purchases in the most fashionable stores, rather wearily returned to his rooms at the City Hotel. He was depressed and had a premonition of trouble. After this little cloud the Christmas festivities went on with unalloyed pleasure. Madame and Annette were to stay at the Bowling Green house until Saturday, and when the judge saw his mother’s delight in her anticipated visit to the theatre on Christmas night he had no heart to say one opposing word. But Sappha was not now so eager. She felt sure that in Leonard’s present temper he would not like her to be the guest of St. Ange, and she resolved to forego the pleasure. “I shall have a little headache in the morning, and it will grow worse towards night, and I shall beg to be left at home that I may sleep it away. I do not think it will be wrong,” she mused. “There is not room in the box St. Ange has taken but for six; and if there was room, I am sure Leonard would not accept the invitation to join us. Well, then, it is better to make an excuse than to make trouble. Why did not Leonard rent a box? He might have thought of it just as well as St. Ange. I wish I knew what it is best, what it is right, to do.”