"Thanks, awfully," Kirk hastened to say, feeling himself flush
uncomfortably. "But I sha'n't need anything. The old gentleman
will wire me whatever I ask for. Does Mr. Cortlandt know how I am
fixed?"

"No."

"Please don't tell him. I--I'm a little bit ashamed of myself.
You're not going?"

"Yes. It is getting late, and my maid is looking for me."

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's lonesome around here without--somebody to
talk to." He took her hand and shook it as if she were a man.
"You've been mighty good to me and--I wish you had a sister.
That's all."

She left him the memory of a very bright and very girlish smile,
and he found himself thinking that she could not be so much older
than he, after all.

Mr. Cortlandt was awaiting his wife and rose courteously as she
entered their suite.

"Did you send Annette for me?" she inquired.

"Yes. I thought you had forgotten the hour. We rise at six."

"My dear," she returned, coolly, "I was quite aware of the time. I
was talking to Mr. Anthony."