that has any good in him at all? But it amazes me that he can be
content to go back to Birmingham and his brass bedsteads. Sheer lack
of energy, I suppose. He'll grow dreadfully fat, I fear, and by when
he becomes really a rich man--it's awful to think of."

Eve asked many questions about Narramore; his image gave mirthful
occupation to her fancy. The dinner went merrily on, and when the
black coffee was set before them:

"Why not have it outside?" said Eve. "You would like to smoke, I
know."

Hilliard assented, and they seated themselves under the awning. The
boulevard glowed in a golden light of sunset; the sound of its
traffic was subdued to a lulling rhythm.

"There's a month yet before the leaves will begin to fall," murmured
the young man, when he had smoked awhile in silence.

"Yes," was the answer. "I shall be glad to have a little summer
still in Birmingham."

"Do you wish to go?"

"I shall go to-morrow, or the day after," Eve replied quietly.

Then again there came silence.

"Something has been proposed to me," said Hilliard, at length,
leaning forward with his elbows upon the table. "I mentioned that