"It is treating me generously enough just now to make up for anything," and he looked at her. "Do you know, Mrs. Dan, that it is borne in upon me now and then that there are things that are quite worth while?"
"Oh, if you come to that," she answered, lightly, "everything is worth while. For you, Monty, life is certainly not slow. You can dominate; you can make things go your way. Aren't they going your way now, Monty"—this more seriously—"What's wrong? Is the pace too fast?"
His mood increased upon him with her sympathy. "Oh, no," he said, "it isn't that. You are good—and I'm a selfish beast. Things are perverse and people are desperately obstinate sometimes. And here I am taking it out on you. You are not perverse. You are not obstinate. You are a ripper, Mrs. Dan, and you are going to help me out in more ways than one."
"Well, to pay for all these gallantries, Monty, I ought to do much. I'm your friend through thick and thin. You have only to command me."
"It was precisely to get your help that I came in. I'm tired of those confounded dinners. You know yourself that they are all
