retained forsook him on the spot. What made matters worse was his
recollection of other evenings that of late he had failed in
precisely the same manner. Even while he struggled to save the
situation Condy was wondering if they two were talked out--if they
had lost charm for each other. Did he not know Travis through and
through by now--her opinions, her ideas, her convictions? Was
there any more freshness in her for him? Was their little
flirtation of the last eighteen months, charming as it had been,
about to end? Had they played out the play, had they come to the
end of each other's resources? He had never considered the
possibility of this before, but all at once as he looked at
Travis--looked fairly into her little brown-black eyes--it was
borne in upon him that she was thinking precisely the same thing.

Condy Rivers had met Travis at a dance a year and a half before
this, and, because she was so very pretty, so unaffected, and so
good-natured, had found means to see her three or four times a
week ever since. They two "went out" not a little in San
Francisco society, and had been in a measure identified with what
was known as the Younger Set; though Travis was too young to come
out, and Rivers too old to feel very much at home with girls of
twenty and boys of eighteen.

They had known each other in the conventional way (as
conventionality goes in San Francisco); during the season Rivers
took her to the theatres Monday nights, and called regularly
Wednesdays and Sundays. Then they met at dances, and managed to
be invited to the same houses for teas and dinners. They had
flirted rather desperately, and at times Condy even told himself
that he loved this girl so much younger than he--this girl with