friends? Tell me that!"

We could not tell him that. We did not try.

The Gay Lady was pinching one of her little flowered dimity ruffles into
plaits with an agitated thumb and finger. I was sure the Skeptic's
present state of mind was of more moment to her than she would ever let
appear to anybody.

The Skeptic rose slowly from his chair.

"Will you walk down the garden path with me?" he asked the Gay Lady.

They sauntered slowly away into the twilight.

* * * * *

The Philosopher came and sat down by me.

"He's not really hit," said he presently; "he's only temporarily upset.
I was a trifle bowled over myself. She's certainly a stunning girl. But
when I try to recall what she and I talked about when we sat out here
together, at such times as he was willing to leave her in my company, I
have really no recollection. When it was too dark to see her
clothes--or her smile--I remember being once or twice distinctly bored.
Now--the Gay Lady--don't you think she always looks well?"

"Lovely," I agreed heartily.

"I may not know much about it, being a man," said he modestly, "but I