soon as one has one's own affair of the heart arranged, one begins to plan for others?"
Minot made a little whistling sound through his clenched teeth. The girl stood up.
"Your thoughtfulness has made me very happy," she laughed. "It shows that perhaps you care for me—just a little—too."
She was gone! Minot sat swearing softly to himself, banging the arm of his chair with his fist. He raged at Thacker, Jephson, the solar system. Gradually his anger cooled. Underneath the raillery in Cynthia Meyrick's tone he had thought he detected something of a serious note—as though she were a little wistful—a little hurt.
Did she care? Bitter-sweet thought! In the midst of all this farce and melodrama, had she come to care?—just a little?—
Just a little! Bah!
Minot rose and went out on the avenue.
Prince Navin Bey Imno was accustomed to give lectures twice daily on the textures of his precious rugs, at his shop in the Alameda court-
