"Mr. Elliston, please do not feel so badly. I respect you, and hope we
may ever be friends."
She approached him and held out her hand. He turned and regarded her
with a queer glow in his eyes.
"I accept your proffer of continued friendship," he said with a forced
smile. "It is better so than open war between us."
"It would avail nothing to make war on a friend," she said simply. "I
respect you very highly, Mr. Elliston, and as Dyke's friend, shall
always hope to retain your good opinion."
"Whatever may happen, you will have that," he returned.
Soon after the gentleman departed. The moment he was gone Nell Darrel
sank to a chair, and, bowing her head on the table, began to cry.
Strange proceeding, was it not, after what had taken place? Women are
enigmas that man, after ages of study, has been unable to solve.
Another face came before the girl's mind at that moment, the face of
one to whom her heart had been given in the past, and who, for some
unaccountable reason, had failed to put in an appearance or write
during the past six months.
"If Harry were only here," murmured the girl, as she raised her head
and wiped the tears from her pretty eyes. "I know something has
happened to him--something terrible.
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