excitement.

"Well, well!" he said. "I knew I was going to have some luck to-day.
My right hand has been itching--or is that a sign of money?" Then he
saw her face, and reduced his speech to normality, if not his heart.

"Come and sit down," he said. "And tell me about it."

But she would not sit down. She went to the window and looked out
for a moment. It was from there she said:

"I have been accepted."

"Good." But he did not, apparently, think it such good news. He drew
a long breath. "Well, I suppose your friends should be glad for
you."

"I didn't come to talk about being accepted," she announced.

"I don't suppose, by any chance, you came to see how I am getting
along?" he inquired humbly.

"I can see that."

"You can't see how lonely I am." When she offered nothing to this
speech, he enlarged on it. "When it gets unbearable," he said, "I
sit in front of the mirror and keep myself company. If that doesn't
make your heart ache, nothing will."

"I'm afraid I have a heart-ache, but it is not that." For a