"Miss Landis," he said.

"Mr. Siward?"--very gently. It was her way to be gentle when generous.

"I think," he said, "that you are beginning to remember where you may
have heard my name."

"Yes--a little--" She looked at him with the direct gaze of a child, but
the lovely eyes were troubled. His smile was not very genuine, but he
met her gaze steadily enough.

"It was rather nice of Mrs. Ferrall to ask me," he said, "after the mess
I made of things last spring."

"Grace Ferrall is a dear," she replied.

After a moment he ventured: "I suppose you saw it in the papers."

"I think so; I had completely forgotten it; your name seemed to--"

"I see." Then, listlessly: "I couldn't have ventured to remind you
that--that perhaps you might not care to be so amiable--"

"Mr. Siward," she said impulsively, "you are nice to me! Why shouldn't I
be amiable? It was--it was--I've forgotten just how dreadfully you did
behave--"

"Pretty badly."

"Very?"