"Do you?" She lifted her eyes to him curiously. "You know, Jim, I must be honest with you. I never did love anybody.... But, if you had come home—and if you had told me that you cared for me—that way——" "Yes." "Well, I was just a girl. You had my affections. I could have been taught very easily, I think—to care—differently——" "And—now?" "What?" "Is it too late to teach you, Steve?" "Why, yes. Isn’t it?" "Why?" "I’m married." "It’s a flimsy, miserable business!" he began angrily, but she flushed and checked him with a hand against his lips. "Besides—I do care for Oswald—very deeply," she said. "Don’t say painful things to me.... Don’t be sulky, Jim, dear. This is disconcerting me dreadfully. We mustn’t make anything tragic out of it—anything unhappy. I’m so contented to have you back that I can’t think of anything else.... Don’t let’s bother about love or anything else! What you and I feel for each other is more wonderful than love. Isn’t it? Oh, Jim, I _do_ adore you. We’ll be with each other now a lot, won’t we? You’ll take a studio in this district, and I’ll fly in at all hours to see you, and you’ll come in to see me and we’ll do things together—everything—theatres, dances, pictures, everything! And you will like Oswald, won’t you? He’s really so nice, poor boy!" "All right," he muttered. They rose; he took both her hands into his and looked intently into her grey eyes: "I won’t spoil life for you," he said. "I’ll be near you, now. The old intimacy must be strengthened. I’ve failed wretchedly in my responsibilities; I’ll try to make up for my selfishness——" "Oh, Jim! I don’t think that way——" "You are too generous. You are too loyal. You are quite the most charming woman I ever knew, Steve—the sweetest, the most adorable. I’ve been a fool—blind and stupid." "You mustn’t say such ridiculous things! But it is dear of you to find me attractive! It really thrills me, Jim. I’m about the happiest girl in New York, I think! Tell me, do you like Helen?" "Yes, she’s nice. Where are you dining, Steve? Could you——" "Oh, dear! Helen and I are dining out! It’s a party. We all go to the ball. But, Jim—do get a costume of some sort and come to the Caricaturists’ Ball! Will you? Helen and I are going. It’s the Ball of the Gods—the last costume ball of the season, and it is sure to be amusing. Will you come?" He didn’t seem to think he could, but she insisted so eagerly and promised to have an invitation at his hotel for him by nine o’clock, that he laughed and said he’d go. "Everybody artistic will be there," she explained, delighted. "You’ll meet a lot of men you know. And the pageant will be wonderful. I shall be in it. So will Helen. Then, after the pageant, we’ll find each other—you and I!——" She sighed: "I am too happy, Jim. I don’t want to arouse the anger of the gods." She linked her arm in his and entered the studio.