“Of course not.” He looked down in earnest
thought and then said softly, his eyes on the table,
“I’m glad that you feel that way, Cynthia.” She
bit her lip and trembled slightly. “I ’ll confess
now that I don’t think that I love you, either. You
sweep me clean off my feet when I’m with you, but
when I’m away from you I don’t feel that way.
I think love must be something more than we feel
for each other.” He looked up and smiled boyishly.
“We ’ll go on being friends anyhow, won’t we?”
Somehow she managed to smile back at him. “Of course,” she whispered, and then after a brief pause added: “We had better go now. Your train will be leaving pretty soon.”
Hugh pulled out his watch. “By jingo, so it will.”
He called the waiter, paid his bill, and a few minutes later they turned into Fifth Avenue. They had gone about a block down the avenue when Hugh saw some one a few feet ahead of him who looked familiar. Could it be Carl Peters? By the Lord Harry, it was!
“Excuse me a minute, Cynthia, please. There’s a fellow I know.”
He rushed forward and caught Carl by the arm. Carl cried, “Hugh, by God!” and shook hands with him violently. “Hell, Hugh, I’m glad to see you.”
Hugh turned to Cynthia, who was a pace behind them. He introduced Carl and Cynthia to each
