It was only twenty-six hours since he had first met her, and he hated to consider his life as unalterably blasted, or to even give up the fight. Nevertheless, whenever he looked across the room he saw fresh signs of the most awful kind. Even the way that she didn’t trouble to trouble over the one man, but devoted herself to General Jiggs, was in itself a very bad portent. Well, such was life and one must bear it somehow and be a man. Probably he would suffer less after the first five or ten years—he hoped so at any rate. But, great heavens, what a fearful prospect until those first five or ten years were gone by! Finally he went up to his own room and put on another collar and sat down at the open window and thought about it for a good while all quiet and alone by himself. After that he went back downstairs. She was gone, and Holloway, too. He felt freshly unhappy. When you come to consider, it was so damned unjust for one man to be thirty-five while another—just as decent a fellow in every way—was in college. He— A hand touched his arm. He turned from where he was standing in the window recess, and looked into her eyes. “I’m very wicked, am I not?” she asked, looking up at him so straight and honest. “I can’t admit that,” he replied. “But I am. I know it myself. What Bob told you was all true. I’m a heartless wretch.” She spoke so earnestly that his heart sank lower and lower. “I wanted to speak to you about to-morrow morning,” she said, after a little pause. “You know we were going to drive at ten together, and—and I wondered if—you see, Mr. Holloway’s an old friend, and he’s had so much to tell me to-night, and he isn’t half through—” She was drawing him with a chain, a hair chain, which she had woven out of her eyelashes in the twinkling of an eye (either eye). He felt himself helpless—and choked. “Of course I don’t mind. You go with him. It’s quite one to me.” She gave a tiny little start. “Oh, I didn’t mean that at all,” she cried. “I meant—I meant—you see it’s all been a little tiring—and to-morrow’s Sunday anyway and I—I Wanted to—to ask you if we couldn’t go out at eleven instead of ten?” She looked so sweetly questioning, and his relief was so great, and his joy— (Probably don’t care a rap for Holloway!) —so intense, that he could hardly refrain from seizing her in his arms. But he only seized her little hand instead and pressed it fervently to his lips. When he raised his eyes she was smiling, and her smile filled him with happiness. “You’re such a boy!” she said softly, and turned and left him there in the window recess alone again,—but this time he didn’t care. Chapter Seven Developments