Then let's be friends--old friends," said Keith.
He held out his hand, and when she took it grasped hers firmly.
"Who is here with you to-night ?" he asked.
"No one.

Mr.Lancaster does not care for balls." "Won't you give me the pleasure of seeing you home ?" She hesitated for a moment, and then said: "I will drop you at your hotel.

It is right on my way home." Just then some one came up and joined the group.
"Ah, my dear Mrs.Lancaster! How well you are looking this evening!" The full voice, no less than the words, sounded familiar to Keith, and turning, he recognized the young clergyman whom he had met at Mrs.
Wentworth's when he passed through New York some years before.

The years had plainly used Mr.Rimmon well.

He was dressed in an evening suit with a clerical waistcoat which showed that his plump frame had taken on an extra layer, and a double chin was beginning to rest on his collar.
Mrs.Lancaster smiled as she returned his greeting.
"You are my stand-by, Mr.Rimmon.I always know that, no matter what others may say of me, I shall be sure of at least one compliment before the evening is over if you are present." "That is because you always deserve it." He put his head on one side like an aldermanic robin.