THE AMERICAN
going to. I seem to want to like people, these days—seem regularly to like liking them, and almost any one will do. I feel so good that if I was n't sure I'm going to be married I might think I'm going to die."
"Do you make," the young man enquired, "so much of a distinction?" But he dropped rather wearily into a chair and went on before his host could answer. "Happy man, only remember that there are poor devils whom the flaunted happiness of others sometimes irritates."
"Do you call a person a poor devil," demanded Newman, "who's as good as my brother-in-law?"
"Your brother-in-law?" his friend a trifle musingly echoed.
"Say then my brother," Newman kindly returned—"and leave the other description for yours."
It made Valentin after an instant rise to him. "You're really very charming. You have your own way for it—which must have been your way of making love. Well," he sighed with a dimmer smile than usual, "I don't wonder and I don't question! Only you are, I understand"—he immediately took himself up—"really and truly in love?"
"Yes, sir!" said Newman after a pause.
"And do you hold that she is?"
"You had better ask her," Newman answered. "Not for me, but for yourself."
"I never ask anything for myself. Have n't you noticed that? Besides, she would n't tell me, and it's after all none of my business."
Newman hesitated, but "She doesn't know!" he
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