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82 down on the couch. You'll be better in a moment—here are the salts—wait a second, Sally, and I'll go with you."

"No, thank you, Mrs. Schauffler"—the girl was determined not to give Phil any further chance of continuing the disagreeable subject on the walk home—"I hate to leave, for you've given me a lovely time—but I must go now—I'll tell you about it some other time."

Seeing her very real distress, Mrs. Schauffler no longer protested.

"All right, dear. Don't you worry. Theodore"—she called to her husband.

"Oh, don't bother, Mrs. Schauffler, I can run home alone. The moon is up and it isn't dark."

"Go alone? I should say not," briskly interjected the old gentleman. "You've been favouring the young squirts all the evening. Now we old fellows have our innings," then to overcome her reluctance he whispered,—"besides, you'll do me a favour. I'm dying for a smoke."

So after all, Phil saw Stella home and thereby gained the parting kiss at the gate, which many Salthaven girls allowed as the proper finish to an enjoyable party, but which Sally would as certainly have denied. It was a more mystical caress she was venturing at her window, that window over whose sill she had climbed that memorable night, three months ago. She threw open her shutters. The wind drove the grey gondolas of the clouds across the wistful face of the moon. They were sailing south!

Taking the leaves from her hair, she kissed them, then