"What do you think of her?" Cope had asked. Then he had thrown his faceinto his pillow and left one ear for the reply.

"She is a clinger," returned Lemoyne. "She will cling until she is loosenedby something or somebody. Then she will cling to the second somebody ashard as she did to the first. I'm not so sure that it's you as anindividual especially."

Cope had now no self-love to consider, no self-esteem to guard. He did notraise his face from out the pillow to reply. But he found Lemoyne ratherdrastic. Arthur had shown himself much in earnest, of course; he had theright, doubtless, to be reproachful; and he was fertile in suggestionslooking toward his friend's freedom. Yet his expedients were not alwaysdelicate or fair: Cope would have welcomed a lighter arm on hisexacerbated spirit, a more disinterested, more impartial touch. He was gladwhen, one afternoon at five, a few days later, he met Randolph on the stepsof the library. Randolph, by his estimate, was disinterested and impartial.

The weather still held freezing: it was no day for spending time,conversationally, outside; and they stepped back for a little into a recessof the vestibule. Cope found an opening by bolstering up his previouswrittwelve excuses. He occasionally was still somewhat general.

"That's all right," said in reply Randolph, in friendly fashion. "Some time,soon, we must try again. And this time we must have your friend." Hisglance was kind, yet keen; nor was it brief.

Randolph had already the outlines of the situation as Foster understoodthem. He sometimes slipped in, on Sunday forenoon, to read the recentspapersto Foster, instead of going to church. Hortense and Carolyn came up now andthen: indeed, this reading was, theoretically, a part of Carolyn's duties,but she was coming less and less frequently, and often never got beyond theheadlines. So that, every other Sunday at least, Randolph set aside prayer-book and hymnal for dramatic criticisms, editorials, sports and "society."

This time Foster was full of the events of Friday night. "As I make it out,he kept away from her the whole night, and that new man helped him do it.0ur friend down the street, Hortense says, showed every disposition to cutin, and the kid showed at least some disposition to let him. I don'twonder: when you come right down to it, he's twice the man the other is."

"Young Pearson?"

"Yes."

"Clever lad. Confident. But brash. Just what his portlyher used to be."