"Put me back into the old niche. Can't we forget about to-night?"
Paul laughed a little harshly.
"Forget!" he echoed drearily. "How little women know the way a man can love? With you I shall only rank as one of the many moths that have singed their wings by flying too closely about you."
"No, no! I shall think of you always as my one man-friend, to whom I could say anything that was in my head. I shall miss him dreadfully."
"And under no circumstances can you think of me in a different light?"
"I don't know, but I think not," May said simply. "You may think it odd, or call me heartless, but I have not yet met the man I wish to marry. There! you see I trust you to the last. Good-bye, my friend."
Paul bent over the hand that was put into his own and kissed it, and went home feeling that the chill of the night had closed about his heart.