discretion to the winds and tell her--you tell her--well, you go home engaged to her. That's how a friendship ends. Bah!" "A realistic recital. From hearsay, of course! The next day the man wishes he were well out of it, I suppose?" "Not quite so soon as that, but soon enough." "Ah, I wish you knew, Charlie Hardy, how all this sounds even to such a good friend of yours as I am. It is such men as you who lower the standard of love and of men in general. Do you suppose a girl who has had an encounter with you, and seen how trifling you are, can have her first beautiful faith to give to the truly grand hero when he comes? No; it has been bruised and beaten down by what you call 'a little flirtation,' and possibly her unwillingness to trust a second time may force her true lover into withdrawing his suit. How dare men and women trifle with the Shekinah of their lives? And when it has been dulled by abuse, what a pitiful Shekinah it appears to the one who approaches it reverently, confidently expecting it to be the uncontaminated holy of holies! It is this sort of thing which makes infidels about love." Charlie began to look sulky, feeling, I suppose, that I was piling the sins of the universe on to his already burdened shoulders. "I dare say you are right, but what am I to do?" "There is only one thing for you to do, but I know you won't do it." "Yes, I will. Only try me," he said, brightening up. "You must go and tell Louise that you are in love with Frankie Taliaferro." "Tell Louise? Why, Ruth, it would kill her. You don't know her. She wouldn't let me off. You don't know how a girl in love feels. Ruth, were you ever in love?" "That is not a pertinent question," I said. "It comes quite near being the other thing. But let me tell you, Charlie Hardy, I know Louise King, and it won't kill her. You know 'men have died and worms have eaten them, but not for love.' That might be said of women." (I didn't know, Tabby, whether it might or might not. I couldn't afford to let him see my doubts, if I had any.) "We don't die as easily as you men seem to think." "But is this your view of what is right?" he asked. "I was sure you would counsel the other. I've been fortifying myself to give Frankie up and marry Louise, and, with all due respect to you, I must say that I think you are wrong here. You must remember that my honor is involved." "Bother your honor!" I cried explosively. Charlie seemed rather pleased than otherwise at my inelegance. "I am tired to death of hearing men fall back on nonsense about their honor. I notice they seldom feel called upon to refer to it unless they are involved in something disreputable." Charlie straightened up at this and settled his coat with an indignant jerk. "I hardly think," he began stiffly, "that I am involved in anything disreputable in being engaged to Miss King."