“Come to my sitting-room on the floor above, then,” he responded, ungraciously, leading the way up the stairs. The room into which he ushered her was a curious combination of elemental homeliness and the little belongings of advanced luxury, which littered it from wall to wall. Alice Carmichael’s quick eye did not fail to discern this discrepancy, which she set down at once to her brother’s habitual unwillingness to enjoy anything that was not a gift from some one who could afford to pay the piper. But despite her calm bearing, her heart was torn at sight of him. A thousand recollections, tender and poignant, arose to overwhelm her. To Ashton’s infinite relief, however, she continued to sit as unbending as marble upon the edge of the cane-bottomed chair he had offered her. He knew well enough that after the first drop into sentiment she would soon be herself again. “I have always regarded it as a particular piece of good fortune,” she began, presently, “that so far as I have followed your fashionable career fate has not brought you into contact with any of the Olivers. When Mrs. Farnsworth returned here to live it must have been a considerable embarrassment to you to know how to avoid meeting her. But that, I suppose, might have been left to her woman’s tact to dispose of. I am quite sure that neither she nor any one of her family would ever voluntarily come to look you in the face.” Her victim winced, and she saw that he felt the sting implied. “Just now, with the omniscience of my fraternity, I am in a position to know the list of guests expected at Mrs. Ellison’s dinner for her débutante daughter to-night. Not only are Mr. and Mrs. Arden Farnsworth to be there, but Mr. Thomas Oliver himself, who is in town stopping with his sister for a few days.” “The devil he is!” cried Carmichael, much perturbed. “You can hardly have expected to go on forever escaping the sword of Damocles. Though, as you know, you are perfectly safe from Mr. Oliver and the Farnsworths, too; indeed, I don’t believe they would turn on their heels to look a second time if they saw you lying in the gutter. But I have a feeling for them--a feeling that I can’t ask you to understand--which makes me wish to spare them the annoyance of your presence. It will be the first time in years that Mr. Oliver has appeared in the society of his old friends. He has had a life of work and care beyond his deserts. I should like to think that this one evening’s enjoyment is not to be spoiled for him.” “I believe you are in love with that---- monolith!” said her brother, with an oath. Miss Carmichael looked at him with undisturbed equanimity. “What Mr. Oliver did for me in my hour of greatest need would entitle him to the best my heart could give. But you forget, I think, that this and other experiences have made of me a machine, not a woman. No need, however, to tell you what he did for me, or what I am. Will you stay away from the Ellisons’ dinner, or will you not?”