“I gather it did not shock Mrs. Almar.”

“She knew it already.  ‘Lee,’ she said, ’that story is so old that even my husband knows it,’ and every one laughed.”

“I’m afraid you did not enjoy yourself.”

“I like Mr. Hickson very much.  And I thought Miss Fenimer more beautiful than before.  He was telling me what a wonderful nature she has.  He said he had never seen her out of temper.”

“Yes, Hickson’s crazy about her,” said Riatt casually.

“Dear Max, why do you try to deceive yourself about your own feeling for her?”

“Deceive myself,” he said angrily.  “If you knew the truth, my dear Dolly!” His heart stood still.  Deceive himself!  What an insulting phrase.  He repressed a strong impulse to propose on the instant to Dolly.  That would show her how indifferent he was to Christine.  It would assure him, too.

Instead he formed a plan to go home with her and her mother, when they went.

“When are you going back, Dolly?”

“The day after to-morrow.”

“Any objections to my going, too?”

“Objections!  Max, dear!”

He engaged his ticket at once at the hotel office.  Having done so, he felt tranquil and relieved, and perhaps the least little bit dull.  The clerk assured him he was fortunate to be able to get a berth at such short notice.  “Very fortunate,” he agreed and was annoyed at a certain cold ring in his voice.

The next day, true to his promise to show Christine all attentions that the public could expect, he sent her a box of flowers, and at four he stopped for her and they went and took a long walk together, hoping to meet as many people whom they knew as possible.

“We won’t walk in the Park,” said Christine.  “No one sees you there, though of course if they do, it makes an impression.  But, no; we’ll stick to Fifth Avenue, and study all the windows that have clothes or furniture in them, as if our minds were entirely taken up with trousseaux and house-furnishing.”

She was true to her word, and not squeamish.  Riatt found it rather amusing to wander at her side, dressing her in imagination in every garment that the windows so frankly displayed, and answering with real interest her constant inquiry:  “Do you think that would become me?  Would you like me in that?  Do you prefer silk to batiste?”

They were standing in front of a stocking shop in which on a row of composition legs which might have made a chorus envious, “new ideas in hosiery” were romantically displayed, when Riatt decided to tell her of his approaching departure.  He chose the street, because he was well aware that she would not approve of his plan, and he wished to avoid a repetition of last evening’s scene.

“I shall have to go away the day after to-morrow,” he said, and glanced quickly down on her to see how she would take it.

She was studying the stockings, and she drew away with her head at a critical angle.