he would have gone away, but he stayed in-

stead, and so it fell to me to get out into the tall grass. At dinners, dances, picnics—everywhere—there was always Charlie Lepperts with his pale face and sneering smile; and though I bore up well enough when I had to, these meetings humiliated me, and I grew more and more to avoid them.

At last I drew out entirely, and people learned it was no use inviting me. I preferred to whisk about all day in my little Maxwell, with seldom any other company than my dog Olaff and a spare tire. But when a girl is badly hurt—heart hurt—she instinctively turns to doing good. When you are happy, I suppose it is too big a bore, and it's an old saying that misery loves company. Studdingham was a very poor field for philanthropy, but I chased up a pimply orphan, took Mrs. Agnew's trained nurse for a few rides, and discovered an exasperating nursery governess who was convalescing from typhoid. Not that I spent my whole time doing good, but at long