“He could give Nellie things she would value. I am sure she feels she would shine in high politics.” Miss Lewis raised her glass again. “You know she is not really pretty.” “I think she is, only she looks as cold as a little stone.” “If you say that, every one answers, ‘But see how good she is to her uncle.’” “My dear, if you were a penniless orphan, wouldn’t you be good to a rich uncle?” Miss Lewis hesitated. “I’m not so sure, if he were like Mr. Lee. Besides, some people say he hasn’t anything left, you know.” “Look how they live, though.” “My innocent! Does that prove that they pay their bills? Nellie strikes me as being very short of cash now and then.” “Who is not?” “And the reprobate son will have to come in for something, won’t he?” “Oh, I fancy not. I don’t think they have anything to do with him. He has disappeared, to South America or somewhere.” “Well,” said Miss Lewis, “I should advise Nellie not to take chances, but to accept--” And then she stopped. “Look at that,” she added. “Don’t you think that is a mistake?” For the girl in gray had risen slowly, and disappeared into the back of the box, followed by Emmons. He was a short man, no longer very young. Nature had intended him to be fat, but he had not let her have her way. The two sat down in the little red-lined room behind the box, with its one electric light and its mirror. Nellie had established herself on the tiny sofa. “Well, James,” she said. “I wanted to tell you that I had been appointed to this commission to inquire into the sources of our Russian immigration. I start in September.” “I congratulate you. You will be an ambassador within a few years, I feel sure.” Her praise did not seem to elate him. He went on in exactly the same tone: “I shall be gone three months or more.” “I shall miss you.” Her manner was too polite to be warm, and he answered, without temper, “You don’t care whether I go or not.” She looked at him. “Yes, I do, James,” she said mildly. “You know I depend on you, but it would be very selfish if I thought of myself instead of----” He brushed it aside, as one anxious only for facts. “You are not really fond of me,” he said. “Well, I am not romantically in love with you. I never was with any one, and I don’t suppose I ever shall be, but I like you well enough to marry you, and that is something, you know.” “You don’t like me well enough to marry me in August and come to Russia with me.” If he had been watching her face at this suggestion, he would not have needed an answer, but fortunately he was looking another way. “You know I can not leave my uncle, old and ill----” “Will you be any better able to leave him in three months?” She hesitated, but as if it were her own motives that she was searching. “When you come back there will be no need for leaving him.” “Oh,” said Emmons. He glanced through the curtains at the old man’s thin back, as if the idea of a common household were not quite agreeable to him.