"He tried to be silly," she said. "Of course I snubbed him. But it
makes me horribly uncomfortable somehow."

Lloyd Pryor got up and slowly scratched a match under the mantel-
piece; he took a long time to light his cigar. Then he put his hands
in his pockets, and standing with his back to the fire regarded his
boots. Helena was staring straight ahead of her with melancholy
eyes.--("Do you ever have the feeling," the boy had said, "that
nothing is worth while?")

Lloyd Pryor looked at her furtively and coughed. "I suppose," he
said--and knocked the ashes from his cigar with elaborate
care--"I suppose your adorer is a good deal younger than you?"

She lifted her head sharply, "Well, yes;--what of it?"

"Oh, nothing; nothing at all. In the first place, the health of our
friend, Frederick, is excellent. But if this fellow were not younger;
and if apoplexy or judgment should--well; why, perhaps--"

"Perhaps what?"

"Of course, Helena, my great desire is for your happiness; but in my
position I--I am not as free as I once was to follow my own
inclinations. And if--"

"Oh, my _God!_" she said violently.

She fled out of the room with flying feet. As he followed her up the