"I know very well that she can't." "She would hardly wish you to know the opposite, if the opposite were true." "Bah! I know something about women----" "The devil himself can't know a woman who doesn't know herself." "Anyhow, it is a free field----" "And plenty of favor." "She hasn't seen Ten Eyck for years----" "The last time was this afternoon." "What?" "I saw them walking on Fourth Avenue, as I came up-town in a horse-car." "Humph!" said Vane, and he dropped the conversation. For some weeks he said nothing more to John about Miss Thomas; and during that time he was trying, with more or less success, to persuade himself of his own folly. But he found it more easy to bend his energies to the subjugation of Miss Thomas's heart than of his own. And John noticed that he left his business rather earlier in the afternoon than usual, and always took the Fourth Avenue car up-town. In his evenings he exhausted a large part of the most cynical French literature in convincing himself that he was a fool. But in spite of Balzac and Scribe, he found that he looked forward anxiously to the evenings when he was to meet her; and it was more easy for him to laugh at his own infatuation--no, interest was the name he gave it--than to go for a couple of days without seeing its object. The first Sunday that he let pass without a visit, he was very nervous all the evening, and going to bed early made a vain effort to sleep. What a--qualified--fool he was, and yet how he did love that girl! He got up and read Heine by way of disillusion, and opened the book at the quatrain, "Wer zum ersten Male liebt Sei's auch glücklos, ist ein Gott; Aber wer zum zweiten Male Glücklos liebt, Der ist ein Narr." How good! How very good! And Vane laid the book down with much applause. Decidedly the best way to win Miss Thomas was to give her her own way. He could leave her to her own devices for a time. If she loved Ten Eyck, there was nothing to be done by seeing her; if she did not, a little delay would do no harm. If she loved nobody, his chance was assured. This settled, Vane went to bed with the easy mind of a general who has planned the morning's march. IX. VANE'S strategy was doubtless perfect; but in the morning he found a note sealed and superscribed in a charmingly pretty feminine hand. "Dear Mr. Vane," it began, "Miss Roster's skating party has been given up. She begged me to tell you; but, as I have not seen you, I feel obliged to send you this note. If you have nothing better to do, why will not you come that evening? It is so long since we have read together.--Winifred Thomas."