“Just look at the girl! Seeing her dancing just like any other perfectly healthy young being, you’d never think she had so many wonderful things in her head and heart. Millie’s one of those people who think with their hearts as well as their brains. When you find that combination, sonny, you’ve got something!” “Um--yes,” he assented glumly. Dale looked up at him and laughed. “I’ll begin to suspect you’re in love with her now if you act like this!” “The suspicion does me honor!” he replied. “Oh, I’m not going to push you! I did have some idea of helping you, but I see it’s no use.” “Really, none,” he answered soberly. And for a moment the old unhappiness clutched him.... At one o’clock he left the hall with Helen and Millicent. “I suppose the tongues will wag for a while,” Helen sighed wearily. “But you’ve got to hand it to Constance and George! They certainly put on a good show!” At the Harden’s Bruce took Millicent’s key and unlocked the door. “I’ve enjoyed this; it’s been fine,” she said and put out her hand. “It was a pretty full evening,” he replied. “But there’s a part of it I’ve stored away as better than the plays--even better than my dances with you!” “I know!” she said. “Helen’s salad!” “Oh, better even than that! The talk at the table--your talk! I must thank you for that!” “Oh, please forget! I believe I’d rather you’d remember our last dance!” She laughed light-heartedly and the door closed. “They’ve done it now!” exclaimed Helen as the car rolled on. “Why will people be such fools! To think they had to go and let the whole town into the secret!” “Cease worrying! If they’d really cared anything for each other they couldn’t have done it.” “George would--it was just the dare-devil sort of thing that George Whitford _would_ do!” “Well, you’re not troubled about me any more!” he laughed. “A little while ago you thought Connie had designs on me! Has it got to be someone?” “That’s exactly it! It’s got to be someone with Connie!” But when he had left her and was driving on to his apartment it was of Millicent he thought, not of Constance and Whitford. It was astonishing how much freer he felt now that the Atlantic rolled between him and Franklin Mills. III Bruce, deeply engrossed in his work, was nevertheless aware that the performance of “The Beggar” had stimulated gossip about Constance Mills and Whitford. Helen Torrence continued to fret about it; Bud Henderson insisted on keeping Bruce apprised of it; Maybelle deplored and Dale Freeman pretended to ignore. The provincial mind must have exercise, and Bruce was both amused and disgusted as he found that the joint appearance of Constance and Whitford in Whitford’s one-act play had caused no little perturbation in minds that lacked nobler occupation or were incapable of any very serious thought about anything.