bold enough to speak of it. He knew he would never dare to speak of it in that constricted hide-*bound kindly life which he and Kathleen shared in the flesh. To speak of it would mean to become forthwith what people glibly called insane. So Horvendile and Ettarre were parted for all time. And Kathleen willed this, no matter with what wistful tenderness, and because of motives which he would never know—for how could one tell what was going on inside that small round head his hand was caressing? Still, he could guess at her reasons; and he comprehended now that Ettarre had spoken a very terrible truth—"All men I must evade at the last, and innumerable are the ways of my elusion."
"Well, dear," he said aloud; "and was it a pleasant party?"
"Oh, so-so," Kathleen conceded; "but it was rather a mixed crowd. Hadn't you better hurry and change your clothes, Felix? It is almost dinner-time, and, you know, we have seats for the theater to-night."
Quite as if he, too, were thinking of trifles, Felix Kennaston took up the two bits of metal.
