"So that’s the cause of all this—this _self-respect_, the reason for all this religious silence of his lips—while his eyes work overtime? I thought it was becau—that it—that there was really something; and is _that_ all!" Elise laughed merrily. "I think it’s shameful, myself!" said Lola severely. "I glory in his resentment." "I have never noticed any resentment, and—_I did not treat him so_," replied the quick-witted Elise combatively. Quietly her heart laughed on. "You deny it?" asked Lola. "Yes, I deny it. He did not ask me to marry him. He simply told me—quite abruptly—that he loved me, and, after some time, asked me for my answer. What was I to answer? When there is no question there can be no answer. So I told him there was _no answer_. If a man will insist upon an answer he must not be so stupid as to forget to put a question." Elise chuckled inwardly as she constructed this specious defence. She was in very good humour with herself,—and with Lola. "But promise me," she hurried on to say, "that you will not intimate to Mr. Rutledge that it is his stupidity that has swelled his bump of self-respect for these last four years." Lola demurred to this form of statement: bless her, she was a loyal friend. But Elise insisted. "Not a word to Mr. Rutledge! Let him discover his mistakes unaided. Promise me. _Promise_," she demanded. Lola promised. "Cross your heart and hope you may die," Elise added. Lola laughingly went through these binding formalities. "Now the goblins will get you if you ever tell him and besides that I would know it at once. If you do I’ll send him packing for good and all." Lola protested that she would leave Mr. Rutledge entirely to his own devices,—and she kept her promise. Lola had insisted on retiring early for a good night’s rest, but it was long after midnight before she and her school-day chum grew sleepy over their confidences. Along at the last Elise pressed her face down in the pillow beside Lola’s cheek and whispered: "Honey, if it wasn’t very dark and our last night together I couldn’t tell you; but do you know if Mr. Rutledge were to ask me to marry him to-morrow I would have to tell him there was no answer." Lola lay still till she caught the meaning of this confession. Then she softly kissed Elise good-night. "Let your heart decide, dearest," she said. At the wedding breakfast next morning, and at the church at noon, Rutledge was bewildered by the softness, the gentleness of Elise’s manner toward him. There was nothing of the cold brilliance, nor of the warm combativeness, nor of the lukewarm indifference of her moods for such a long time past. Like the breath of long forgotten summers, of one particular halcyon summer, was her simple-hearted friendliness on that day. He harked back by a conscious effort to keep in touch with his grievance, but it seemed to be eluding his grasp.