However, he took his hat and stick and went down stairs. When he rang at her studio, Helen admitted him, saying that Stephanie was asleep in her room and had not desired any dinner. So they chatted for a while, and then Cleland took his departure and walked slowly up the street toward the Rochambeau. And the first person he met on University Place was Marie Cliff. Perhaps it was the instinct to make amends to her for the unjust inferences drawn to her discredit a few hours before—perhaps it was the sheer excitement and suddenly renewed hope of Stephanie that incited him. Anyway, his gay greeting and unfeigned cordiality stirred the lonely girl to response, and when they had walked as far as the Beaux Arts, they were quite in the mood to dine together. She was grateful to be with an agreeable man whom she liked and whom she could trust; his buoyant spirits and happy excitement were grateful for somebody on whom they could be vented. In that perfumed tumult of music, wine, and dancing they seated themselves, greeted cordially by Louis, the courtly and incomparable; and they dined together luxuriously, sometimes rising to dance between courses, sometimes joining laughingly in a gay chorus sustained by the orchestra, sometimes, with elbows on the cloth and heads together, chattering happily of nothing in particular. Men here and there bowed to her and to him; some women recognized and greeted them; but they were having much too good and too irresponsible a time together to join others or to invite approaches. It was all quite harmless—a few moments’ pleasure without other significance than that the episode had been born of a young man’s high spirits and a young girl’s natural relief when her solitude was made gay for her without reproach. It was about eleven o’clock; Marie, wishing to be fresh for her posing in the morning, reminded him with frank regret that she ought to go. "I wouldn’t care," she said, "except that since I’ve left the Follies I have to depend on what I earn at Miss Davis’s studio. So you don’t mind, do you, Mr. Cleland?" "No, of course not. It’s been fine, hasn’t it?" "Yes. I’ve had such a good time!—and you are the nicest of men——" Her voice halted; Cleland, watching her with smiling eyes, saw a sudden alteration of her pretty features. Then he turned to follow her fixed gaze. "Hello," he said, "there’s Harry Belter. Are you looking at _him_?" Her face had grown very sober; she withdrew her gaze with a little shrug of indifference, now. "Yes, I was looking at him," she said quietly. "I didn’t know you knew him." "Didn’t you? ... Yes, I used to know him." He laughed: "The recollection doesn’t appear to be very pleasant." "No." "Too bad. I like Belter. He and I were at school together. He’s enormously clever." She remained silent. "He really is. And he is an awfully good fellow at heart—a little pronounced, a trifle tumultuous sometimes, but——" She said, evenly: