a string with women--I don't mean that;
but girls are always just so many pictures to be
picked up on his brushes and transferred to his
canvases. And as for his settling down and
marrying anybody for keeps, right along--Great
Scott! imagine Bertram Henshaw as a _domestic_
man!''

Arkwright stirred restlessly as he spoke up in
quick defense:

``Oh, but he is, I assure you. I--I've seen
them in their home together--many times. I
think they are--very happy.'' Arkwright spoke
with decision, though still a little diffidently.

Calderwell was silent. He had picked up the
little gilt band he had torn from his cigar and was
fingering it musingly.

``Yes; I've seen them--once,'' he said, after
a minute. ``I took dinner with them when I was
on, a month ago.''

``I heard you did.''

At something in Arkwright's voice, Calderwell
turned quickly.

``What do you mean? Why do you say it like