t, as she counted over the tale of guests and recognized
individuals of many a named species from the garden of society. All in
all, this was the best success she had as yet attained.

She greeted Beatrix effusively, and cast a coy glance at Lorimer while
she murmured a few words of congratulation. Then she fell a victim to
one of Bobby's quibbles, and while she was struggling to see the point
of his joke, the others made their escape.

"At least, the architect knew what he was about," Lorimer remarked to
Beatrix, as they took their seats. "Thayer can't complain of the
acoustic effects of the place."

"When have you seen him?"

"Just before dinner. He was in superb voice then, and a fairly good
mood."

"Isn't he always?" she questioned idly, as she nodded to an acquaintance
in the next row of chairs.

"Not always. As a rule, he is the best-tempered fellow in the world.
Once in a while, though, he wraps himself up in his dignity and stalks
about like an Indian brave in his best Navajo blanket. Nobody ever knows
what is the reason, nor when he will go off into a Mood. It makes him an
uncertain quantity. For my part, I would rather a man would swear and
get it over with." Lorimer spoke easily. Unlike Thayer, he never
collided with the angles of his own temperament.

"What does it do to his singing?"

"Depends on one's taste. I like it, myself, as I like a high-flavored
cheese. People who pin their faith to Mendelssohn might be a little
over-powered. Fact is, there is a strange streak in Thayer's make-up. I
can't account for him at all."

"What is the use of trying? Aren't one's friends immune from analysis?"

"I don't care to try. I don't want to account for him; he is too large
for that. I wish you might know him; but you never will. He's not a
woman's man in the least."

Beatrix was silent for a moment. Involuntarily she was making a swift
comparison of the way in which the two men spoke of each other.
Lorimer's praise had been full of half-suppressed reservations. Thayer
had made no reservations, he had scarcely uttered a word of praise, yet
his hastily-drawn picture of Lorimer's connection with the Arlts had
proved a determining factor in her life. It had been a new phase of
Lorimer's character which Thayer had presented. It had revealed him in a
new light and one infinitely more likable than any she had yet known.
The Lorimer she had met, had been fascinating and a bit snobbish. The
friend of the Arlts w