by his deception, anxious as she was in regard to the outcome of the
episode, nevertheless she remained true to her usual careful reticence.
To a woman of Beatrix Lorimer's temper it was easier to bear unjust
blame than to demand just pity. And yet, as she recognized that the
facts were apparently all against her, she could not help hoping that
Thayer would suspend judgment until he had talked with Bobby Dane. Bobby
had seen the memoranda for the supper, and had advised her in regard to
some of the details. Not only was he the one person besides herself and
Lorimer who knew the whole truth; but he could invariably be relied upon
to tell the truth in its entirety.

As Lorimer had said, it was a great night for Arlt. His work had scored
a complete success, and he had been called twice before the audience to
receive in person his applause. Something in the simple overture had
caught the fancy of the orchestra, and they had played it with an
enthusiasm, had interpreted it with a dainty accuracy to Arlt's own mood
which would have won prompt recognition for a work of far less merit.
The critics were warm in their praises; but the audience, upon whom a
popular success depends far more than upon the professional leaders of
opinion, was in a mood to be expressed by no such temperate phrase. As
he lingered in the Lorimers' box, watching the young German come forward
to the footlights, Thayer was ready to predict a fair measure of lasting
popularity to his friend. The audience was most hospitable to him. It
now remained for the Lorimers' supper to set upon him the seal of social
approval. For Arlt's sake, Thayer devoutly hoped that the supper would
be a success. Under other conditions, he might have had his doubts. This
was the first time he had seen Lorimer for weeks; but the stories which
had drifted to his ears had not been reassuring. In Lorimer's own house,
however, there could be no danger. He felt that he could count upon
Beatrix to forestall that.

In the weeks since they had met, it seemed to him that Beatrix must have
grown more beautiful with each passing day. Beneath the perfect poise
of her manner, he could see an increasing gentleness, a sadness which
was under absolute control. She was as strong as ever, but less
self-reliant. Experience had taught her that she was powerless to fight
alone. In her worst battles, she had learned that she must rely upon
another; and Thayer, as he watched her, rejoiced that that othe