“Ken Ware, you are a miracle of denseness. Don’t you know that this whole conversation has been impossible—that it couldn’t have happened? I never imagined such cool effrontery! But I’m not offended, and I don’t know why.... I’ll dine with you some evening soon—but not to touch this subject again. Don’t ever mention it—never! I’ve got some rights to be thought about, and I’m going to think about them. There are just two things you may do: either propose to me out and out, so I can refuse you, or else treat me as a friend, and no trimmings. I mean it!” “But I don’t want to do either.” “You’ll have to.” She laughed, and slid deftly from behind the table. “Are you going to walk up the street with me?” “Let me pay the check.” He called a waiter and asked for _l’addition_ and then walked to the corner of the rue d’Aguesseau with Maude. She did not permit him to linger. “Good-by,” she said, turning abruptly away. “Drop me a note when you feel in a condescending mood.” That evening when he got home he found Bert and Madeleine there ahead of him. “Andree’s coming, too,” said Bert. “I met her this afternoon and told her there was going to be a party.... This is a farewell. See Madeleine’s tears?” “Farewell?” “Yes. I’m going away for a couple of weeks—some buildings to look after. I don’t mind, but Madeleine’s darn near heartbroken.” “Oh yes,” said Madeleine, gaily. “My heart it break. I am so lonely.... You see, Monsieur Bert he is the on’y American _officier_ in France. When he is gone, there is no other.” “You don’t mean that,” said Ken. “Of course she does,” Bert said, with a grin. Ken shrugged his shoulders and went to his room to tidy up a bit for dinner. He heard them laugh, and Bert’s voice said, “He thinks we are very naughty.” He did think so, but in spite of himself he liked Madeleine, indeed, felt a real friendship for her. She was not like Andree, but she possessed qualities which could not pass unnoticed. She was generous, kind, always concerned for Bert’s comfort and financial welfare. There was not a mercenary hair in her head, if there was not a serious hair. Even though there was nothing deep and enduring and lofty in her relations with Bert, there was nothing sordid. She was seeking her little moments of happiness, seeking them lightly, gaily, carelessly.... Ken excused his own conduct because it was concerned with a great love and a beautiful fidelity. There were no such matters between Bert and Madeleine, yet Ken could not find it in his heart to denounce her as bad. According to all his standards she was bad—a light creature. But, somehow, he did not see her as a light woman nor as wicked. It would have been difficult to find any one more different from Andree.... Ken had become used to accepting Andree’s judgments in large measure, and Andree did not declare Madeleine _méchante_. She, too, liked the girl, accepted her as a friend and equal.... It was all a part of this strange world with its upsetting standards....