Rose MacLeod

								

little tired, and they walked silently. Presently, at her own gate, she
suggested, not grudgingly, but as if the charm of goodness was,
unhappily, assured,--
"I suppose she's lovely!"
"Great! She's one of those creatures that have good mother-stuff in
them. It doesn't matter much what they mother. It's there. It's a kind
of force. It helps--I don't know exactly how."
"Now can't you see what I mean? That woman has had big things. She had
one of the great loves. She built it up, piece by piece, with Charlie.
He kept a devotion for her that wasn't to be compared with the tempest
he felt about me. I'm sure of that."
Stark looked at her as they walked, his eyes perplexedly denying the
evidence of his ears.
"Do you know, Florrie," he said, "it's incredible to hear you talk so."
"Why?"
"You have a zest for life, a curiosity about it. Why, it's simply
tremendous."
"No, Billy, no. It's not tremendous. It's only that I am quite convinced
I haven't got my money's worth. Late as it is, I want it yet. I'll have
it--if it's only playing jokes on publishers!"
They ate together in the shaded room, and Madam Fulton, looking out
through the windows at the terrace, realized, with an almost humble
gratitude, that the world itself and the simple joys of it were quite
different tasted in comradeship. She forgot Electra and the irritated
sense that her well-equipped granddaughter was wooing her to the ideals
of a higher life.
"Billy," she said again, "I'm uncommon glad you came."
Billy's heart warmed with responsive satisfaction He had expected a more
or less colorless meeting with his old love, a philosophic reference
here and there to vanished youth, a twilight atmosphere of waning days;
but here she was, living as hard as ever. And he had brightened her; he
had given her pleasure. The complacency of it reacted upon him, and he
sought about in his clever mind for another drop to fill the beaker. By
the time they had finished their coffee, he knew.
"Florrie," said he, "what if you should put on your hat and take the
train with me?"
"My stars, Billy! Run away?"
"Come up to town. We'd scare up some kind of a theatre this evening, and
in the morning you could see Gilbert and Wall."
"And 'fess? Not by a great sight! But I'd like to go, Billy. Leave out
Gilbert and Wall, make it you and me, and I'm your man."
"Come along."
"Worry Electra to death!" she proffered brightly. "I'll do it, Billy.
Here's the key of my little flat, right here on the writing-desk. I
never stayed there alone, but there's no reason why I shouldn't. You can
come round in the morning, to see if I've had a fit, and if I haven't
we'll go to breakfast. But we must take the three o'clock. She'll be
back by four."
She got her bonnet and her handbag, and when Electra did come back at
four, her grandmother had flown, leaving a note behind.

III

The next morning Electra, dressed in white and rather pale at the lips,