She shook her head. "I refuse to discuss it," she said, as gently as
before, but quite firmly.

The Skeptic sighed. "I'm sorry," he declared. "You really don't
know----"

"I don't want to know," said the Gay Lady. "Isn't it a lovely, lovely
evening?"

"Yes, it's a lovely evening," said the Skeptic, looking up at her. "It
would be delightful on the river."

She shook her head again.

"Not nicer than here," she answered.

The Philosopher came back. When he was half-way across the lawn the
Skeptic jumped up and rushed forward and offered his shoulder for the
Philosopher to lean upon.

"Clear out," said the Philosopher shortly.

"I'm glad to hear it," rejoined the Skeptic. "I feared you might be
clear in."

"It's not your fault that I'm not," grunted the Philosopher.

He dropped down upon the porch step in an exhausted way.

The Gay Lady rose.