K. was being very dense. For so long had he considered Sidney as
unattainable that now his masculine mind, a little weary with much
wretchedness, refused to move from its old attitude.

"It was glamour, that was all, K.," said Sidney bravely.

"But, perhaps," said K., "it's just because of that miserable incident with
Carlotta. That wasn't the right thing, of course, but Max has told me the
story. It was really quite innocent. She fainted in the yard, and--"

Sidney was exasperated.

"Do you want me to marry him, K.?"

K. looked straight ahead.

"I want you to be happy, dear."

They were on the terrace of the White Springs Hotel again. K. had ordered
dinner, making a great to-do about getting the dishes they both liked. But
now that it was there, they were not eating. K. had placed his chair so
that his profile was turned toward her. He had worn the duster religiously
until nightfall, and then had discarded it. It hung limp and dejected on
the back of his chair. Past K.'s profile Sidney could see the magnolia
tree shaped like a heart.

"It seems to me," said Sidney suddenly, "that you are kind to every one but
me, K."

He fairly stammered his astonishment:-"Why, what on earth have I done?"

"You are trying to make me marry Max, aren't you?"