twenty minutes with Jane.

As the tall artist led the way upstairs, Jim
whispered:

"Say, for God's sake, let me out of this!"

"Why?"

"She's a frost. If I have to sit beside her an
hour I'll catch cold and die. I swear it; save me!
Save my life!"

"Sh! It's all right. She's fine and generous when
you know her."

They had reached the door and Mary pushed him in.
There was no help for it. He'd have to make the most
of it.

The dinner was a dismal failure.

Jane Anderson was polite and genial, but there was
a straight look of wonder in her clear gray eyes that
froze the blood in Jim's veins.

Mary tried desperately for the first half-hour to
put him at his ease. It was useless. The attack of
Ella had upset his nerves, and the unexpressed
hostility of Jane had completely crushed his spirits.