loved her, and that would be the end on't.'"

Graham was mistaken in this case. Not in laughing sympathy, but in
pale dismay, would Hilland have received this revelation, for _he_ was
making love to Grace St. John because he loved her with all his heart
and soul. There had been a time when Graham might have obtained a hint
of this had circumstances been different, and it had occurred quite
early in his acquaintance with Miss St. John. After a day that had
been unusually delightful and satisfactory he was accompanying the
young girl home from his aunt's cottage in the twilight. Out of the
complacency of his heart he remarked, half to himself, "If Hilland
were only here, my vacation would be complete."

In the obscurity he could not see her sudden burning flush, and since
her hand was not on his arm he had no knowledge of her startled
tremor. All that he knew was that she was silent for a moment or two,
and then she asked quietly, "Is Mr. Warren Hilland an acquaintance of
yours?"

"Indeed he is not," was the emphatic and hearty response. "He is the
best friend I have in the world, and the best fellow in the world."

Oh, fatal obscurity of the deepening twilight! Miss St. John's face
was crimson and radiant with pleasure, and could Graham have seen her
at that moment he could not have failed to surmise the truth.

The young girl was as jealous of her secret as Graham soon became of
his, and she only remarked demurely, "I have met Mr. Hilland in
society," and then she changed the subject, for they were approaching
the piazza steps, and she felt that if Hilland should continue the