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Patricia puckered her brows judicially. "No," said Etwald, rising. "We have talked long enough on this subject. It is plain that we three men are in love with the same woman. You can't blame me, nor I you. Miss Dallas is a sufficiently beautiful excuse for our madness. I spoke out simply because I want you both to understand the position. You are warned, and we can now do battle for the smiles of this charming lady. Let the best man win!" "Oh!" rejoined Etwald, quietly, "Mr. Alymer told me so to-night.".
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Elinor hesitated. "I don't know," she replied slowly, measuring her words. "I can't put my finger on it, but she doesn't seem the same to me as she did at first. She isn't jealous of my poor work, of course, but I can feel a something—a wall or barrier—that she raises up between us whenever my work is spoken of. I felt it when we talked about the subject of the prize designs, and I felt it today more clearly than ever. We can't be friends any more as we were, I'm afraid. Something has come between us. 'The little rift within the lute,'" she quoted sorrowfully. "I like it better than the land of the Amorites and the Hittites," she responded so promptly that the other gaped. Patricia started and looked up with a sunny smile. At this moment the door of the library opened slowly, and Dr. Etwald, calm and composed, appeared on the threshold. Behind him, over his shoulder, peered the pale countenance of David. From the ironical look on the doctor's face it would appear that he had overheard the accusation of the major, and was prepared to treat it with contempt. That such was the case appeared by the first words which issued from his mouth as he faced his accuser..
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