"Stella!" she repeated. "It is a beautiful name."
"Is it not? Stella!"
"And she is—who?"
"The niece of old Etheridge, the artist, at the cottage."
Lilian's eyes opened wide.
"Really, Ley, I must see her!"
His face flushed, and he looked at her.
She caught the eager look, and her own paled suddenly.
"No," she said, gravely. "I will not see her. Ley—you will forget her by to-morrow."
He smiled.