A SUGGESTION Waymark and Julian Casti were sitting together in the former's room.

It was Saturday evening--two days after Waymark's visit to Ida.

Julian had fallen into a sad reverie.
"How is your wife ?" asked his friend, after watching the melancholy face for a while.
"She said her headache was worse to-night." "Curiously," observed Waymark, with a little acidity, "it always is when you have to leave home." Julian looked up, and seemed to reach a crisis in his thoughts.
"Waymark," he began, reddening as he still always did when greatly moved, "I fear I have been behaving very foolishly.

Many a time I have wished to speak out to you plainly, but a sort of delicacy--a wrong kind of delicacy, I think--prevented me.

I can't keep this attitude any longer.