"No, thank you. I am my own secretary, and have no reason for displacing the present incumbent. The library will suit you better in every respect." In her embarrassment she began to feel for her glasses, which were lying in her lap. Farnham picked up a small photograph from the table near him, and said: "Do you recognize this?" "Yes," she said. "It is General Grant." "It is a photograph of him, taken in Paris, which I received to-day. May I ask a favor of you?" "What is it?" she said, shyly. "Stop wearing those glasses. They are of no use to you, and they will injure your eyes." Her face turned crimson. Without a word of reply she seized the glasses and put them on, her eyes flashing fire. She then rose and threw her shawl over her arm, and said, in a tone to which her repressed anger lent a real dignity: "When can I learn about that place in the library?" "Any time after Wednesday," Farnham answered. She bowed and walked out of the room. She could not indulge in tragic strides, for her dress held her like a scabbard, giving her scarcely more freedom of movement than the high-born maidens of Carthage enjoyed, who wore gold fetters on their ankles until they were married. But in spite of all impediments her tall figure moved, with that grace which is the birthright of beauty in any circumstances, out of the door, through the wide hall to the outer entrance, so rapidly that Farnham could hardly keep pace with her. As he opened the door she barely acknowledged his parting salutation, and swept like a huffy goddess down the steps. Farnham gazed after her a moment, admiring the undulating line from the small hat to the long and narrow train which dragged on the smooth stones of the walk. He then returned to the library. Budsey was mending the fire. "If you please, sir," he said, "Mrs. Belding's man came over to ask, would you dine there this evening, quite informal." "Why didn't he come in?" "I told him you were engaged." "Ah, very well. Say to Mrs. Belding that I will come, with pleasure." II. A HIGH-SCHOOL GRADUATE. Miss Matchin picked up her train as she reached the gate, picked up her train as she reached the gate, and walked down the street in a state of mind by no means tranquil. If she had put her thoughts in words they would have run like this: