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 world as Phœbe. He gave humble thanks that he could see her walking on the opposite side of the road or know she was in the family pew hearing the music he made for her.

Often in the summer afternoons or before falling asleep at night he would be suffused with a sense of well-being that recalled the afternoon of his drive with Dr. Wilcove. And in all such moments a vision of Phœbe Meddar came before him, a tranquil vision in ivory and gold, with eyes of gentian blue and a little tight pink smile.

Phœbe was a year younger than he, and a grade lower at school. This gave him a sense of seniority. His regard for her was at times paternal, always protective. The heavenly hosts had lost their glamour. He was beginning to be sceptical of the pearl and jasper, the pavements of gold. There was something second-rate about the glory of abandoning a Bechstein concert piano on earth for a measly harp on high. But his nature still yearned after the ineffable, yearned all the more by reason of the disintegration of his heavenly visions, and before he knew it Phœbe was a sort of living angel in an earthly paradise from which he was excluded, but of which it was his lot to catch radiant glimpses.

The only sign that his regard for Phœbe bordered on the terrestrial was a growing dislike for Walter Dreer's society. He hated Walter when he spoke of Phœbe Meddar as "darn good-looking" or wondered whether Phœbe would be "game." Gritty Kestrell, champion of truth at any price, once said right out that Phœbe was Walter's "girl." Walter acknowledged the impeachment with an easy smile, for which Paul gave him another black mark. For he knew that Phœbe disapproved of Walter. He had seen her shrink when Walter had tried by ruse to obtain her as partner at Myrtle Wilcove's birthday party. The ruse had been discovered in time and the girls had finally drawn lots for partners and were