"Well, she's coming now--we'll see," was the sullen answer.

Ella surveyed him from head to foot, her one eye gleaming in angry suspicion.

Mary sprang up the last step and saw the two confronting each other. She had heard the angry voices from below.

"Why, Ella, what's the matter?" she gasped.

"He was trying to break into your room----"

Jim threw up his hands in a gesture of rage, and Mary broke into a laugh.

"Why, nonsense, Ella, I asked him to come! This is Mr. Anthony,"--her voice dropped,--"my fiance."

Ella's figure relaxed with a look of surprise.

"Oh, ja?" she murmured, as if dazed.

"Yes--come in," she said to Jim. "Sorry I was out. I had to run to the grocer's for the Kitty."

Ella glared at Jim, turned and began to light the other hall lamps without any attempt at apology.

Jim entered the room with a look of awe, took in its impression of sweet, homelike order and recovered quickly his composure.

"Gee, you're the dandy little housekeeper! I could stay here forever."

"You like it?"

"It's a bird's nest." He glanced in the mirror and saw the print of Ella's fingers on his collar. "Will you look at that?" he growled.

"It's too bad," she said, sympathetically.

"You know I thought a she-tiger had got loose from the Bronx and jumped on me."

"I'm awfully sorry," she apologized. "Ella's very fond of me. She was trying to protect me. She couldn't see who it was in the dark."

"No; I reckon not," Jim laughed.

"I've changed our plans for the evening," she announced. "We won't go to ride tonight. I want you to bring my best friend to dinner with us at Mouquin's. Go after her in the car. I want to impress her----"

"I got you, Kiddo! She's goin' to look me over--eh? All right, I'll stop at the store and get a clean collar. I wouldn't like her to see the print of that tiger's claw on my neck."

"There's her address the Gainsborough Studios. Drop me at Mouquin's and I'll have the table set in one of the small rooms upstairs. I'll meet you at the door."

Jim glanced at the address, put it in his pocket and helped her draw on her heavy coat.

"You'll be nice to Jane? I want her to like you. She's the only real friend I've ever had in New York."

"I'll do my best for you, little girl," he promised.

He dropped her at the wooden cottage-front on Sixth Avenue near Twenty-eighth Street, and returned in twenty minutes with Jane.

As the tall artist led the way upstairs, Jim whispered:

"Say, for God's sake, let me out of this!"

"Why?"

"She's a frost. If I have to sit beside her an hour I'll catch cold and die. I swear it; save me! Save my life!"

"Sh! It's all right. She's fine and generous when you know her."

They had reached the door and Mary pushed him in. There was no help for it. He'd have to make the most of it.

The dinner was a dismal failure.

Jane Anderson was polite and genial, but there was a straight look of wonder in her clear gray eyes that froze the blood in Jim's veins.

Mary tried desperately for the first half-hour to put him at his ease. It was useless. The attack of Ella had upset his nerves, and the unexpressed hostility of Jane had completely crushed his spirits. He tried to talk once, stammered and lapsed into a sullen silence from which nothing could stir him.

The two girls at last began to discuss their own affairs and the dinner ended in a sickening failure that depressed and angered Mary.

The agony over at last, she rose and turned to Jim:

"You can go now, sir--I'll take Jane home with me for a friendly chat."

"Thank God!" he whispered, grinning in spite of his effort to keep a straight face.

"Tomorrow?" he asked in low tones.

"At eight o'clock."

Jim bowed awkwardly to Jane, muttered something inarticulate and rushed to his car.

The two girls walked in silence through Twenty-eighth Street to Broadway and thence across the Square.

Seated in her room, Mary could contain her pent-up rage no longer.

"Jane Anderson, I'm furious with you! How could you be so rude--so positively insulting!"

"Insulting?"

"Yes. You stared at him in cold disdain as if he were a toad under your feet!"

"I assure you, dear----"

"Why did you do it?"

The artist rose, walked to the window, looked out on the Square for a moment, extended her hand and laid it gently on Mary's shoulder.