"Eh? What?--Oh, yes--those confidences. Well, you start in with yours. I am trying to find the dénouement of my story. I feel that it is just within my grasp; and yet I cannot seem to see it yet. But I can listen to you while I am thinking. Go on." "I have not any story to tell," said Sprague, somewhat offended at his friend's apparent indifference to what he had to say. "Oh, yes, you have," retorted Sturgis, with a conciliatory smile; "you said you had news to tell me. Well, tell away. I am listening most respectfully in spite of my apparent absorption." "What a strange fellow you are, Sturgis," laughed Sprague good naturedly. "All I wanted to tell you--and you are the first to hear of it,--is the, to me, rather important fact that I am engaged to be married." "You are?" exclaimed Sturgis with genuine pleasure. "I congratulate you, old fellow, from the bottom of my heart." He seized the artist's hand and shook it in his hearty grasp. "To the original of the picture you wanted to show me yesterday?" he asked. "Yes." "Then she was not betrothed to the other fellow, after all?" "No; that seems to have been a mistake." "I am glad of that, very glad," said the reporter. "By the way, you have not yet told me the young lady's name." "I thought I had mentioned it yesterday morning. Didn't I? No? My fiancée is Miss Murdock." At the sound of this name Sturgis started visibly, and a shadow crossed his features. "Miss Murdock?" he echoed. "Yes," said Sprague. "What is it? You do not seem pleased." Then, as a sudden thought struck him: "I hope I am not treading on your toes, old fellow," he said, putting his hand gently upon his friend's shoulder, and trying to read his thought in his clear gray eyes. "But how absurd! Of course you cannot be a rival for Miss Murdock's affections, since you do not even know her----" "No," laughed Sturgis, regaining his composure, "I am not your rival. As to the other point, while I can hardly claim an acquaintance with the young lady, I think I saw her not more than a couple of hours ago." "A couple of hours ago!" exclaimed Sprague; "why, I was with her myself then." "I know that now, although I was not aware of it at the time." "What, were you at the Murdocks' at the same time as I was?" asked Sprague, surprised. "I had just come from there when I met you. I was in Murdock's study while you were--er--busy in the parlor." "In Murdock's study? How long were you there?" "About half an hour, I should judge," replied Sturgis, "and perhaps fifteen minutes more in the hall, while Murdock was engaged." "I suppose Chatham was still with him," mused Sprague. Sturgis started at the name. "Chatham!" he ejaculated; "what do you know about Chatham?" "What, are you interested in Chatham?" asked the artist, curiously. "I know very little about him, only that he is one of my disappointed rivals." And he thereupon related to the reporter what he knew of Chatham's suit.