he did a great _big_ bit. As if you didn't know he
was dying to come, Marie! But he simply
couldn't--something about his concert Monday
night. He told me over the telephone; but
between his joy that you were coming, and his
rage that he couldn't see you the first minute
you did come, I couldn't quite make out what was
the trouble. But he's coming to dinner to-night,
so he'll doubtless tell you all about it.''

Marie sighed her relief.

``Oh, that's all right then. I was afraid he
was sick--when I didn't see him.''

Billy laughed softly.

``No, he isn't sick, Marie; but you needn't go
away again before the wedding--not to leave
him on my hands. I wouldn't have believed
Cyril Henshaw, confirmed old bachelor and
avowed woman-hater, could have acted the part
of a love-sick boy as he has the last week or
two.''

The rose-flush on Marie's cheek spread to the
roots of her fine yellow hair.

``Billy, dear, he--he didn't!''