came back to the present picture. "This is better, however, for really showing her lovely head."
"Mary's head was a perfection!" Cornelia testified.
"Yes—it was better than her heart."
"Ah, don't say that!" she pleaded. "You weren't fair."
"Don't you think I was fair?" It interested him immensely—and the more that he indeed mightn't have been; which he seemed somehow almost to hope.
"She didn't think so—to the very end."
"She didn't?"—ah, the right things Cornelia said to him! But before she could answer he was studying again closely the small faded face. "No, she doesn't, she doesn't. Oh, her charming sad eyes and the way they say that, across the years, straight into mine! But I don't know, I don't know!" White-Mason quite comfortably sighed.
His companion appeared to appreciate this effect. "That's just the way you used to flirt with her, poor thing. Wouldn't you like to have it?" she asked.
"This—for my very own?" He looked up delighted. "I really may?"
"Well, if you'll give me yours. We'll exchange."
"That's a charming idea. We'll exchange. But you must come and get it at my rooms—where you'll see my things."
For a little she made no answer—as if for some
