you must do the same thing."

"I haven't any more influence over Graham than that," she said, and
snapped her finger. But she did not look at him.

"Promise," he said, steadily.

"Oh, all right." Her voice and face were sulky. She looked much as
Graham had that evening at the table.

"Is that a promise?"

"Good heavens, do you want me to swear to it?"

"I want you to play fair. That's all."

She leaned back again among her pillows and gathered her papers.

"All right," she said, indifferently. "Have you any preference as
to color for your rooms in the new house?"

He was sorry for his anger, and after all, these things which seemed
so unimportant to him were the things that made up her life. He
smiled.

"You might match my eyes. I'm not sure what color they are. Perhaps
you know."

But she had not forgiven him.