is not."

"Yes," he said. "What is matters. I have come here, not to pay a formal
call, or even a friendly visit, but, perhaps, to commit an
impertinence."

She smilingly moved her head, and handed him her cigarette-case.

"No, you would never do that."

He hesitated to take a cigarette--and now her bright eyes frankly mocked
him, and said, "A cigarette commits you to nothing!" Certainly she knew
how to make him feel almost like an absurd and awkward boy; or was it
his feeling of overwork, of physical depression, that was disarming him
today?

"Thank you."

He lighted a cigarette, and she lighted another, still with a happy air.

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"I feel it."

With a little laugh, she reminded him of his saying about women.

"You are wrong. I am going to do it," he said.

"But--do you really think it an impertinence?"