He danced twice or thrice more with acquaintances, “summer” or permanent, and then decided to go home. Madeline Fosdick he saw at the other end of the room surrounded by a group of young masculinity. Helen he could not see at the moment. He moved in the direction of the coatroom. Just as he reached the door he was surprised to see Ed Raymond stride by him, head down and looking anything but joyful. He watched and was still more astonished to see the young man get his coat and hat from the attendant and walk out of the hotel. He saw him stride away along the drive and down the moonlit road. He was, apparently, going home--going home alone. He got his own coat and hat and, before putting them on, stepped back for a final look at the ballroom. As he stood by the cloakroom door someone touched his arm. Turning he saw Helen. “Why--why, Helen!” he exclaimed, in surprise. “Are you going home?” she asked, in a low tone. “Yes, I--” “And you are going alone?” “Yes.” “Would you mind--would it trouble you too much to walk with me as far as our house?” “Why--why of course not. I shall be delighted. But I thought you--I thought Ed Raymond--” “No, I'm alone. Wait here; I will be ready in just a minute.” She hurried away. He gazed after her in bewilderment. She and he had scarcely exchanged a word during the evening, and now, when the evening was almost over, she came and asked him to be her escort. What in the wide world--? The minute she had specified had hardly elapsed when she reappeared, ready for out of doors. She took his arm and they walked down the steps of the hotel, past the group of lights at the head of the drive and along the road, with the moon shining down upon it and the damp, salt breeze from the ocean blowing across it. They walked for the first few minutes in silence. There were a dozen questions he would have liked to ask, but his jealous resentment had not entirely vanished and his pride forbade. It was she who spoke first. “Albert,” she said, “you must think this very odd.” He knew what she meant, but he did not choose to admit it. “What?” he asked. “Why, my asking you to walk home with me, after--after our trouble. It is strange, I suppose, particularly as you had not spoken before this whole evening.” “_I_--spoken to YOU? Why, you bowed to me when I came into the room and that was the only sign of recognition you gave me until just now. Not a dance--not one.” “Did you expect me to look you up and beg you to dance with me?” “Did you expect me to trot at that fellow's heels and wait my chance to get a word with you, to take what he left? I should say not! By George, Helen, I--” She interrupted him. “Hush, hush!” she pleaded. “This is all so silly, so childish. And we mustn't quarrel any more. I have made up my mind to that. We mustn't.” “Humph! All right, _I_ had no thought of quarreling in the beginning. But there are some things a self-respecting chap can't stand. I have SOME pride, I hope.”