Franklin Kane

cies is in a very different category from the woman as mere unsought unit. As unit she sinks easily into the background, is merged with other unemphatic things, but as

a universal interest; the issues of her sit

ore actual. To be loved and to live in the presence of the adorer is the most beautifying of circumstances. Althea bloomed under it. Her eyes became larger, sweeter, sadder;

for Althea. Anything, Aunt Julia thought, was better than to become a wandering old maid, and she had, moreover, the highest respect for Franklin Winslow Kane. As a suitor fo

wholly suitable. Though they chaffed him, they never did so to his disadvantage, and they were res

the frequency of these colloquies and tempted sometimes to withdraw Franklin from them; but the subtle flattery that Miss Buckston's interest in Franklin offered to herself was too acceptable for her to yield to such impulses. Yes, Franklin had a right to his air of careful elation; she had never been so near it. She had not again allowed him to kiss her-she was still rather ashamed when she remembered how often she had, on that one occasion, allowed him to kiss her; yet, in spite of her swift stepping back to discretion, she had never in all her life been so near to saying 'yes' to Franklin as during the eight or ten days after his arrival. And the fact that a third postcard from Helen expressed even further vagueness as to the chance of Gerald's being able to be with them that autumn at Merriston, added to the sense of inevita

perfectly under control that it made her manner sweeter than usual. Her sense of social duty never failed her, and it did not in the least fail her now as she smiled at Althea, and, while she drank the cup of tea that had been brought to her, gave an account of her misfortunes. She had arrived in London from Scotland the night before, spent two hours of the morning in frantic shopping-the shops like ovens and the London pavements exhaling a torrid heat; had found, on getting back to Aunt Grizel's-Aunt Grizel was away-that the silly maid had muddled all her packing; then, late already, had hurled herself i

y open to the evening air, and the lamps had not yet been lit; and when Helen came s

en in, and she herself sat at some distance from them, her heart beating fast as she wondered what Helen would think of him. She could not hear what they said, but she could see that they talked, though not eagerly. Helen had, as usual, the air of giving her attention to anything put before her. One never could tell in the least what she really thought of it. She smiled with pale lips and weary eyes upon Franklin, listened to him gravely and with concentration, and, when she did speak, it was, once or twice, with gaiety, as though he had amused and surprised her. Yet Althea felt that her thoughts were far from Franklin, far from everybody in the room. And meanwhile, of everybody in the room, it was the lean, sallow young man beside her who seemed at once the least impressed and the most interested. But that was so like Franklin; no one could outdo him in interest, and no one could outdo him in placidity. That he could examine Helen with his calm, careful eye, as though she were an ob

in and to the old bond between them, to say nothing of the new, made it unfit that Helen should know that her impressions of Franklin were of any weight with her friend. But the next morning Helen did not come down to break

her, my new fri

he one he put at once before her in the vernacular he had never taken the least pains t

ike that. Only she was part

o get so tired. If she's always l

lous, Franklin.

she looks sick. She ought to take t

to say about her?' Althea asked

tractive; she has a great deal of poise. Only she'

for her to

t enough for her? She'd be a might

laughing. 'There is room in the world, thank goo

you to care so much about her,' he went on, turning his bright gaze upon her. 'I see how you care for her. It's because of that-for her sake, you know-

leless he was, the dear! She sa

t deal of influence on

she liked even more to have the comfort of confiding in him; and she was willing to add to Helen's impressiveness at the expen

st be of pain for her in this avowal. Then he said, 'That's too bad. Too bad

n sat on the grass in front of Althea, just outside the radius of shadow, clasping his thin knees with his thin hands. He looked at his worst out of doors, on a lawn and under trees. He was typically civic. Even with his attempts to adapt his clothes to rural requirements, he was out of place. His shoes seemed to demand a pavement, and his thin grey coat and trousers an office stool. Althea also eyed his tie with uncertainty. H

industries-'I don't see how you can avoid feeling responsible-making some use of all you know. I don't ask

nk I could be of an

Miss Buckston could set you to something at once.

through,' said Miss Buckston. 'I always tell Alth

s care. All you need do, Althea, is to

hey are of use to us in their own way, though they often don't know it. They are learning a lot; they are getting equipped. The country will get the good

d at Helen, but Helen again seemed to slumber. Her face in repose had a look of discontent and sorrow, and Franklin's eyes, fol

with her before tea. Franklin got up at once and walked away beside her, and Althea knew that his alacrity was the greater because he felt that by going wit

closer quarters?' Althea asked, hoping to approach th

er at closer quarters, does one? She is

ger felt many qualms of loyal

ll unapproached. 'And how do you like Mr. K

all any verdict of Helen's; to make sure that Helen should have an open field for pronouncing her verdict candidly. Yet she was hardly prepared for the candour of Helen's r

tle man,'

just what had happened, for it was not as if she had ever definitely told herself that she intended to marry Franklin. The clearest contrast between the moment of revelation and that which had gone before lay in the fact that not until Helen spoke those idle, innocent words had she ever definitely told herself that she could never marry him. And there was a pang in the knowledge

e of being angry with Helen. She was further aware that, since all was over for Franklin, she owed him s

s way. He is very quaint and original and

d acceptance of whatever interpretation of Mr. Kane Althea should choose

er voice smooth, 'and has a very interesting new theory

Helen still suspected nothin

players.' His clothes are odd, of course; he doesn't know how to dress; but his eyes are fine; one sees the thinker in them.' She hoped by sacr

thea. 'Indeed, he is quite poor. He spends mo

traordinary how little difference mon

moment, struggling with her trivial and with her deep discomfitures, and she saw the figures of Miss Buckston and of Franklin-both so funny, both so earnest-appear at the farther edge of the lawn engaged i

that Franklin has wanted to marry me for fifteen years. I've no intention of accepting him; but no one can judge as I can of how big and dear a person he is-in spite of his funniness.' As she spoke she remembered-it was with a gush

ays seemed to be with difficulty that she did it-widely. 'My de

ld the Paris mem

ng more deeply and trying to prevent the tears from rising. '

ay, you must know him so well;-to have him talked over, quite idly and

t detachment. I see him just as you do, only I see so much more. His

ars, you say; it's quite

with a stronger wish than ever to atone to Franklin that she persisted: 'He is extraordinary; that's what I mean about him. I

for Althea with keenest discomfort. It was only after a long pause that at last, tentatively and delicately, as though she guessed that

u ask me? He isn't a man t

, as though her friend's vehemence struck her as slightly exces

y a man I was no

n love with you? Such faithful

hful and devoted he were, you couldn

oked slightly disconcerted. 'Well, as yo

ou do know that under no circ

suppo

nt was inflicting furt

in the same wa

ying-as though in atonement to Mr. Kane she felt bound to put his case as favourably as possible: 'It does

erent

nferior, frivolous sort of person.

. 'You mean that Franklin i

igh,' said Hele

hick sward, in a new light, a light that diminished and removed him; so that while her heart ached over him as it had never ached, it yet, strangely, was hardened towards him, and almost hostile. How had she not seen for he

that he was funny and then glided to the point where she left him as too high for herself, yet not too hig