“Then,” he cried in despair, “there is nothing left for me but to hold the bottle. Let’s change the subject before you tell me I may not do that!” They had passed, soon after leaving the concert, the Craighill house, whose lights flashed at them through the bare trees, and were now drawing close to the Blairs’. She grew suddenly silent, then stopped abruptly. “I don’t believe I’ll go to see your sister now--it’s so late. I’ll telephone her that I’m not coming.” “You’re afraid my sister won’t like your coming with me, isn’t that it?” “No, I’m not afraid of your sister--she’s been kinder to me than anyone else ever was----” “But you don’t think you ought to go to her house with me. I would have you know that my sister thinks rather well of me!” “I must not do anything she would dislike,” persisted the girl. “You think she wouldn’t like your going there with me? I could leave you at the gate!” They had resumed their walk to avoid the appearance of dallying. He had no wish to jeopardize the girl’s relations with his sister; but it was pleasant to talk to her; he had never known just this kind of girl before. Her poverty, her ignorance, her ambitions interested him and set her apart. It had never been his way to hide his iniquities; he was persuaded that he meant her no harm and he rebelled against the thought that there were reasons why she should not be seen with him. His own sister had expressed this clearly enough and he did not know what Fanny would say to him--one never knew about Fanny!--and the hope that his sister would seat Jean Morley and himself at her dinner table only rose to fade. Fanny was capable of it, but she was capable, also, of scolding him sharply before the girl and sending him out of the house. “Mrs. Blair has a right to question anything I do. She is doing a great many beautiful things for me.” “Oh, I’ll explain it to Fanny. She and I are great pals,” he said lightly. “I couldn’t deceive your sister. If she should learn that you had walked to her house with me without telling her, she wouldn’t like it and if she knew she wouldn’t like it; so you can’t know me--you mustn’t know me! Nothing could be clearer than that.” “I certainly can’t know you this way; that’s as plain as daylight.” “There’s no way of knowing me at all! You must understand that now--once and for all. I’m very busy and have my work to do.” “Well, we’ll put it up to Fanny.” And so, the girl still reluctant, they entered the house, where Mrs. Blair darted out from the library with many exclamations. She seemed, on the surface, to take the appearance of her callers as a matter of course, but she waved him into the library with an air of brushing him out of existence.