Athalie

A rather tall man stepped in. He wore a snow-dusted, fur-lined

overcoat and carried in his white-gloved hands a top hat and a

silver-hooked walking stick.

He had made a mistake, of course; and Athalie hastily lowered her feet

and turned half around in her chair again to meet his expected

apologies; and then continued in that attitude, rigid and silent.

"Miss Greensleeve?" he asked.

She rose, mechanically, the heavy lustrous braids framing a face as

white as a flower.

"Is that you, Athalie!" he asked, hesitating.

"C. Bailey, Junior," she said under her breath.

There was a moment's pause, then he stepped toward her and, very

slowly, she offered a hand still faintly fragrant with "cream of

lilacs."

A damp, chilly wind came from the corridor; she went over and closed

the door, stood for a few seconds with her back against it looking at

him.

Now under the mask of manhood she could see the boy she had once

known,--under the short dark moustache the clean-cut mouth unchanged.

Only his cheeks seemed firmer and leaner, and the eyes were now the

baffling eyes of a man.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, quite unconscious of her

own somewhat intimate attire, so entirely had the shock of surprise

possessed her.

"Athalie, you have not changed a bit--only you are so much prettier

than I realised," he said illogically.... "How did I know you lived

here? I didn't until we bought this row of flats last week--my

father's company--I'm in it now.... And glancing over the list of

tenants I saw your name."

She said nothing.

"Do you mind my coming? I was going to write and ask you. But walking

in this way rather appealed to me. Do you mind?"

"No."

"May I stay and chat for a moment? I'm on my way to the opera. May I

stay a few minutes?"

She nodded, not yet sufficiently composed to talk very much.

He glanced about him for a place to lay coat and hat; then slipping

out of the soft fur, disclosed himself in evening dress.

She had dropped into the arm-chair by the radiator; and, as he came

forward, stripping off his white gloves, suddenly she became conscious

of her bare, slippered feet and drew them under the edges of her

negligee.

"I was not expecting anybody,--" she began, and checked herself.

Certainly she did not care to rise, now, and pass before him in search

of more suitable clothing. Therefore the less said the better.