me, aren't you?"

"No," I said; "I'm obliged to be off by the four-o'clock train. But if I
may be allowed to name the hospitality I could accept, I should say
luncheon."

"Good!" cried Glendenning, gayly. "Let us go and have it at the
Bentleys'."

"Far be it from me to say where you shall lunch me," I returned. "The
question isn't where, but when and how, with me."

He got his hat and stick, and as we started out of his door he began:
"You'll be a little surprised at the informality, perhaps, but I'm glad
you take it so easily. It makes it easier for me to explain that I'm
almost domesticated at the Bentley homestead; I come and go very much as
if it were my own house."

"My dear fellow," I said, "I'm not surprised at anything in your
relation to the Bentley homestead, and I won't vex you with any glad
inferences."

"Why," he returned, a little bashfully, "there's no explicit change. The
affair is just where it has been all along. But with the gradual decline
in Mrs. Bentley--I'm afraid you'll notice it--she seems rather to want
me about, and at times I'm able to be of use to Edith, and so--"

He stopped, and I said, "Exactly."

He went on: "Of course it's rather anomalous, and I oughtn't to let you