"You know what I mean," he urged, though he did not know himself what he meant. "I had no idea that your going away would make any difference; if I had dreamed of it, I should have spoken long ago. And when I went to see you those few times at college--" "Yes, you came and I was awfully glad to see you, too; but how many women's colleges have you visited in these four years? There was that Brooklyn girl you were devoted to at Bryn Mawr; and that pretty little French Canadian you rushed at Wellesley,--but of course I don't pretend to know the whole catalogue of them. That was all perfectly proper, you understand; I'm not complaining--" "No; I wish you were," he said, bitterly. If he had known it, he was really enjoying this; there was, perhaps, at the bottom of his heart, a little vanity which these reminiscences appealed to. He rallied now: "But you could afford to have me see other girls," he said. "You ought to know--you should have known all the time that you were the only one in all the world for me." "That's a trifle obvious, Warry;" and she laughed. "You're not living up to your reputation for subtlety of approach." "Evelyn"--his voice trembled; he was sure now that he was very much in love; "I tried to tell you before the carnival that the reason I didn't want you to appear in the ball was that I cared a great deal,--so very much,--that I love you!" She stepped back, drawing the cape together at her throat. "Please, Warry," she said pleadingly, "don't spoil everything by talking of such things. I wished that we might be the best of friends, but you insist on spoiling everything." "Oh, I know," he broke in, "that I spoil things, that I'm a failure--a ne'er-do-well." It was not love that he was hungry for half so much as sympathy; they are often identical in such natures as his. She bent toward him, as she always did when she talked earnestly, and as frankly as though she were speaking to a girl. "Warry Raridan, it's exactly as I told you a moment ago. You've been spoiled, and it shows in a lot of ways. Why, you're positively childish!" She laughed softly. He had thrust his hands into his pockets and was feeling foolish. He wanted to make another effort to maintain his position as a serious lover, but was not equal to it. She went on, with growing kindness in her tone: "Now, I'll say to you frankly that I didn't at all like being mixed up in the Knights of Midas ball; if you had been as wise as I have always thought, you might have known it. You ought to have shown your interest in me by helping me; but you chose to take a very ungenerous and unkind attitude about it; you helped to make it harder for me than it might have been. I relied on you as an old friend, but you deserted me at your first chance to show that you really had my interests at heart. If you had cared about me, you certainly wouldn't have acted so." "Why, Evelyn, I wouldn't hurt you for anything in the world; if I had understood--"