It was as if she flaunted it at him--as if she wanted him to know that it could not have been _his_ money that bought it!... So that was it! She had seen--she had guessed the change in him--and this was her guard? She would force him to know--to accuse her. Old Barstow’s words came to him mockingly: “No--she will not contest it. She wants--to be--free.” X BUT if she wished him to know she gave no other sign. She spent the money that he gave her, and when it was gone she asked him for more. Only once she had said as she took it: “You are sure it is right for me to spend this?” And he had replied: “When you ask for anything I cannot give you I will let you know.” She had said nothing. She had not even glanced at him. But somehow he fancied that she understood him. He grew to know, by intuition, the days when she would go to Merwin’s. As he left the house he would say: “She will be there--” And when he dropped in, in the afternoon, he did not even need to glance at the alcove on the right. He would sit down quietly in his place across the aisle, glad to be with her. He never saw her come and go and he did not know whether any one was with her--behind her curtain. He tried not to know.... He was trying to understand Rosalind. What was it drew her? Was it music--or the quiet place? Or was there------? He could easily have known.... Gordon Barstow’s detective would have made sure for him in a day.... But Eldridge did not want to know--anything that a detective could tell him. He did not want to be told by detectives or told things detectives could tell. He was studying Rosalind’s every wish--as if he were a boy. He did not go to Merwin’s till he felt sure that she would be there in the alcove, and he left before she drew the little curtain and came out. He did not want to know.... He only wanted her to be there--and to sit with her a little while, quietly.... He would wait and understand. A piano had come into the house and the boys were taking lessons. One day he discovered that Rosalind was learning, too. He had come home early, wondering whether he would ask her to go for a walk with him. He had asked her once or twice and they had gone for a little while before supper, walking aimlessly through the suburban streets, saying very little; he had fancied that Rosalind liked it--but he could not be sure. He opened the door with his latchkey and stepped in. Some one was playing softly, stopping to sing a little, and then playing again.... Rosalind was alone. [Illustration: 0127]