“Oh, I was going anyhow, you know,” he answered lightly. “I’ve stayed long enough――longer, in fact, than I agreed to――with myself, I mean,” he added, in response to her look of surprise. There was a moment of silence. Then he went on with a trace of awkwardness: “I told Phil awhile ago that there was only one thing that could make me disregard the decencies and stay on here longer.” She looked at him questioningly. “One thing?” “Yes.” “Why, what is that?” He shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you. I thought that maybe you’d be able to guess.” “Oh,” she murmured, almost under her breath. Her face grew rosy as an understanding of his meaning came to her and she turned her eyes again to the pansies. “But I also told him,” John continued with an attempt at nonchalance, wishing to spare her embarrassment, “that that one thing was not at all likely to happen. So――so I’m not disappointed, you see, Miss Ryerson.” There was a moment of silence. Then: “But it might.” As soon as the words were uttered she regretted them and arose from her chair in a sudden panic. There was no reply. She wondered what he was thinking, what his face said. The stillness grew and grew. She longed intensely to look around, yet could not have done so had life itself depended upon it. Then, when she had begun to think he was no longer there―― “You mean――――?” he asked in low tones that, she thought, trembled a little. She stared hard at the fluttering blossoms beneath the casement and moistened her lips. “Why, I mean that if you didn’t expect it to happen, it――it might, mightn’t it?” She gave a little nervous laugh. “You know they say it’s the unexpected that always happens.” “Oh.... Yes.... I see.” His tone spoke eloquently of disappointment. She was sorry and――yes, disappointed, too. She turned away from the window after a moment and was very glad that the room was so dim; her cheeks were afire. “I must go now and see about dinner,” she said evenly. “Well――――” But he got no further, nor did she move toward the door. Instead: “You really must leave to-morrow?” she asked politely. “Yes; I must, really. You see――the unexpected isn’t going to happen, after all.” He smiled across at her. “But――perhaps the unexpected is too――too impossible!” “Yes; I fear it is,” he answered dejectedly. “Oh, I didn’t mean that!” she cried, and then stopped in a sudden tumult of embarrassment. “Thank you; but I fear it’s true, just the same. The unexpected is one of those wonderful things that are too good to happen――except in books.” He swung himself off the table, still smiling. “But I’m keeping you?” “No.” She shook her head almost impatiently and stood there interlacing her slim fingers in the way he knew so well. Suddenly she raised her eyes to his and asked abruptly: “Do you still remember the promise you――the promise I made you?” she asked. The eyes looked large and fearful and her face was pale. “Yes,” he answered, wonderingly.