"Hunting for lodgings. What have you been doing?" "Watching Helen make a study of a horse out in the covered court. Then we had tea. Then Oswald dropped in and played the piano divinely, as he always does. Then Helen and I started to dress for dinner. Then you called. Where did you look for lodgings?" "Oh, I went to about all the studio buildings——" "Aren’t you going to open the house?" "No. It’s too lonely." "Yes," she said, "it would be too lonely. You and I couldn’t very well live there together unless we had an older woman." "No." "So it’s better not to open it until"—she laughed gaily—"you marry some nice girl. Then it will be safe enough for me to call on the Cleland family, I fancy. Won’t it, Jim?" "Quite," he replied drily. "But when I marry that nice girl, you won’t have far to go when you call on the Cleland family." "Oh, how kind! You mean to board me, Jim?" "You know what I _do_ mean," he said. "I wonder! Is it really a declaration of serious and respectable intentions? But you’re quite safe. And I’m afraid you know it. Tell me, did you find an apartment to suit you?" "No." "Why not come here? There’s a studio and apartment which will be free May first. Oh, Jim, please take it! If you say so I’ll telephone the agent _now_! Shall I? It would be too heavenly if we were under the same roof again!" "Do you _want_ me, Steve? After—and in spite of everything?" "_Want_ you?" He heard her happy, scornful laughter. Then: "We’re dining out, Jim; but come to-morrow. I’ll telephone now that you’ll take the studio. May I, Jim dear?" "Yes," he said. "And I’ll come to you to-morrow." "You angel boy! I _wish_ I weren’t going out to-night. Thank you, Jim, dear, for making me happy again." "_Are_ you?" "Indescribably. I don’t think you know what your kindness to me means. It makes a different person of me. It fills and thrills and inspires me. Why, Jim, it actually is health and life to me. And when you are unkind—it seems to paralyze me—check something in my mind. I can’t explain——" "Steve!" "Yes?" "Could I come in for a moment now?" "I’m dressing. Oh, Jim, I’m sorry, but I’m late as it is. You know I want you, don’t you?" "All right; to-morrow, then," he said in happy voice. He had been sitting in his room for an hour, thinking—letting his mind wander unchecked. If he were not really in love with Stephanie, how could a mere conversation over the wire with her give him such pleasure? The day, drawing to its close without his seeing her, had seemed colourless and commonplace; but the sound of her gay voice over the wire had changed that—had made the day complete. "I believe I _am_ in love," he said aloud. He rose and paced the room in the dusk, questioning, considering his own uncertainty.