"They can wait. Mr. Bines, I wonder if you have quite a correct idea of all New York people." "Probably not; I've met so few, you know." "Well, of course,--but of those you've met?" "You can't know what my ideas are." "I wish we might have talked more--I'm sure--when are you leaving?" "I shall leave to-morrow." "And we're leaving for the country ourselves. Papa and mamma go to-morrow--and, Mr. Bines, I _should_ have liked another talk with you--I wish we were dining at the Oldakers' again." He observed Shepler strolling toward them. "I shall be staying with Aunt Cornelia a few days after to-morrow." Shepler came up. "And I shall be leaving to-morrow, Miss Milbrey." "Ah, Bines, glad to see you!" The accepted lover looked Miss Milbrey over with rather a complacent air--with the unruffled confidence of assured possession. Percival fancied there was a look almost of regret in the girl's eyes. "I'm afraid," said Shepler, "your aunt doesn't want to be kept waiting. And she's already in a fever for fear you won't prefer the necklace she insists you ought to prefer." "Tell Aunt Cornelia, please, that I shall be along in just a moment." "She's quite impatient, you know," urged Shepler. Percival extended his hand. "Good-bye, Miss Milbrey. Don't let me detain you. Sorry I shall not see you again." She gave him her hand uncertainly, as if she had still something to say, but could find no words for it. "Good-bye, Mr. Bines." "Good-bye, young man," Shepler shook hands with him cordially, "and the best of luck to you out there. I shall hope to hear good reports from you. And mind, you're to look us up when you're in town again. We shall always be glad to see you. Good-bye!" He led the girl back to the case where the largest diamonds reposed chastely on their couches of royal velvet. Percival smiled as he resumed his walk--smiled with all that bitter cynicism which only youth may feel to its full poignance. Yet, heartless as she was, he recalled that while she talked to him he had imprinted an imaginary kiss deliberately upon her full scarlet lips. And now, too, he was forced to confess that, in spite of his very certain knowledge about her, he would actually prefer to have communicated it through the recognised physical media. He laughed again, more cheerfully. "The spring has gotten a strangle-hold on my judgment," he said to himself. At dinner that night he had the company of that estimable German savant, the Herr Doctor von Herzlich. He did not seek to incur the experience, but the amiable doctor was so effusive and interested that he saw no way of avoiding it gracefully. Returned from his archaeological expedition to Central America, the doctor was now on his way back to Marburg. "I pleasure much in your news," said the cheerful man over his first glass of Rhine wine with the olive in it. "You shall now, if I have misapprehended you not, develop a new strongness of the character."