She stood at the top of the stairs looking down.  He slowly clumped down the wooden treads, boiling with the amazing discoveries that he had said good-by to Istra, that he was not sorry, and that now he could offer to Nelly Croubel everything.

Istra suddenly called, “O Mouse, wait just a moment.”

She darted like a swallow.  She threw her arm about his shoulder and kissed his cheek.  Instantly she was running up-stairs again, and had disappeared into the studio.

Mr. William Wrenn was walking rapidly up Riverside Drive, thinking about his letters to the Southern merchants.

While he was leaving the studio building he had perfectly seen himself as one who was about to go through a tumultuous agony, after which he would be free of all the desire for Istra and ready to serve Nelly sincerely and humbly.

But he found that the agony was all over.  Even to save his dignity as one who was being dramatic, he couldn’t keep his thoughts on Istra.

Every time he thought of Nelly his heart was warm and he chuckled softly.  Several times out of nothing came pictures of the supercilious persons whom he had heard solving the problems of the world at the studio on Washington Square, and he muttered:  “Oh, hope they choke.  Istra’s all right, though; she learnt me an awful lot.  But—­gee!  I’m glad she ain’t in the same house; I suppose I’d ag’nize round if she was.”

Suddenly, at no particular street corner on Riverside Drive, just a street, he fled over to Broadway and the Subway.  He had to be under the same roof with Nelly.  If it were only possible to see her that night!  But it was midnight.  However, he formulated a plan.  The next morning he would leave the office, find her at her department store, and make her go out to Manhattan Beach with him for dinner that night.

He was home.  He went happily up the stairs.  He would dream of Nelly, and—­

Nelly’s door opened, and she peered out, drawing her peignoir about her.

“Oh,” she said, softly, “is it you?”

“Yes.  My, you’re up late.”

“Do you—­Are you all right?”

He dashed down the hall and stood shyly scratching at the straw of his newest hat.

“Why yes, Nelly, course.  Poor—­Oh, don’t tell me you have a headache again?”

“No—­I was awful foolish, of course, but I saw you when you went out this evening, and you looked so savage, and you didn’t look very well.”

“But now it’s all right.”

“Then good night.”

“Oh no—­listen—­please do!  I went over to the place Miss Nash is living at, because I was pretty sure that I ain’t hipped on her—­sort of hypnotized by her—­any more.  And I found I ain’t! I ain’t! I don’t know what to say, I want to—­I want you to know that from going to try and see if I can’t get you to care for me.”  He was dreadfully earnest, and rather quiet, with