"Something has dropped, my friend, and you don't recognize it." "The tape line again. The eternal tape line! It's pure waste of energy, Darley, to attempt to make you understand. As I said before, you're fundamentally incapable." "Perhaps," evenly. "But for your sake I've listened and tried. At least give me credit for that." Of a sudden he glanced up keenly. "By the way, you're not going out this evening?" "No, Elice is out of town." Armstrong caught himself. "I suppose that is what you meant." For a moment before he answered Roberts busied himself with a stray flake of ash on his sleeve. "Yes, in a way," he said. "I was going to suggest that you tell her what you told me before you said 'no' to Graham." "It's unnecessary." The tone was a trifle stiff. "She at least understands me." The other man made no comment. "You're not going out either this evening, Darley?" returned Armstrong. "No; I'm scheduled for bed early to-night. I've had a strenuous day, and to-morrow will be another." It was already late of a rainy May evening, the room was getting dim, and silently Armstrong turned on the electric light. Following, in equal silence, his companion watching him the while understandingly, he lit a pipe. Stephen Armstrong seldom descended to a pipe, and when he did so the meaning of the action to one who knew him well was lucid. It meant confidence. Back in his seat he puffed hard for a half minute; then blew at the smoke above his head. "Was that mere chance that made you suggest--Elice in connection with that offer of Graham's," he asked, at last; "or did you mean more than the question seemed to imply, Darley?" Again for an appreciable space there was silence. "I seldom do things by chance, Armstrong. To use your own simile, I'm too much of a fish. I don't want to seem to interfere with your personal affairs, however. I beg your pardon if you wish." "But I don't wish you to do so," shortly. "You know that. Besides there's nothing to conceal so far as I'm concerned. Just what did you mean to suggest?" Again the other hesitated, with a reluctance that was not simulated. Darley Roberts simulated nothing. "If you really wish to know," he complied at last, "I think you ought to tell, her--without coloring the matter by your own point of view in the least. She should be as much interested as you yourself." "She is. Take that for granted." Roberts waited. "I know, though, so certainly what she would say that it seems a bit superfluous." Still Roberts waited. "As I said before, she understands me and I understand her. Some things don't require language to express. They come by intuition." And still Roberts waited. "If it were you, now, and there were any possibility of a yardstick it would be different; but as it is--" "Miss Gleason then, Mrs. Armstrong to be, doesn't care in the least to see you come on financially, is completely satisfied with things as they are?" It was Armstrong's turn to be silent.