ment that his goddess had been deprived of her divinity and exiled to earth with him.
The music publisher's sign on the door before him stared at him insistently. He blinked at it—as one might rub the eyes. Then he laughed, somewhat shamefacedly, and ran up the stairs, taking two of the steps at a time.
XIII
"Well," Miss Morris said, "what is it?"
"What is—what?"
"Is it good news you've had? Has someone left you a fortune? You're very much less interested in us than you are in something that's going on inside you."
Don looked confused. "It's something I wanted to ask you about. I can't—not here." The lawn party was seated all around them. "It's something private."
She studied him with an appearance of apprehension. "Has Mr. Kidder"
"No, no. It's nothing like that. Let me walk home with you to-night. I can't tell you here."
She looked down at the handle of her parasol and began to finger the tassel. She said nervously: "How are the plays getting on? Have you started to write one yet? I was thinking, the other day, of a good plot about—I can't remember But you must have thought of hundreds by this time, haven't you?" Her smile seemed to tremble on her lips in a way he had never seen her smile flutter before.
