mething familiar to
Maggie in his carriage, but not till Miss Sherwood, who had risen and
crossed toward him, greeted him as "Mr. Hunt," did Maggie recognize the
well-dressed visitor as the shabby, boisterous painter whom she had last
seen down at the Duchess's.

Panic seized upon her. Miss Sherwood was leading him toward where she
sat and his first clear sight of her would mean the end. There was
no possible escape; she could only await her fate. And when she was
denounced as a fraud, and her glittering victory was gone, she could
only take herself away with as much of the defiance of admitted defeat
as she could assume--and that wouldn't be much.

She gazed up at Hunt, whitely, awaiting extermination. Miss Sherwood's
voice came to her from an infinite distance, introducing them. Hunt
bowed, with a formally polite smile, and said formally, "I'm very glad
to meet you, Miss Cameron."

Not till he and Miss Sherwood were seated and chatting did Maggie
realize the fullness of the astounding fact that he had not recognized
her. This was far more upsetting to her than would have been recognition
and exposure; she had been all braced for that, but not for what had
actually happened. She was certain he must have known her; nothing had
really changed about her except her dress, and only a few weeks had
passed since he had been seeing her daily down at the Duchess's,
and since she had been his model, and he had studied every line and
expression of her face with those sharp painter's eyes of his.

And so as the two chatted, she putting in a stumbling phrase when they
turned to her, Maggie Carlisle, Maggie Cameron, Maggie Ellison, that
gallant and all-confident adventuress who till the present had never
admitted herself seriously disturbed by a problem, sat limply in her
chair, a very young girl, indeed, and wondered how this thing could
possibly be.

CHAPTER XXIV

Presently Miss Sherwood said something about tea, excused herself, and
disappeared within the house. Maggie saw that Hunt watched Miss Sherwood
till she was safely within doors; then she was aware that he was gazing
steadily at her; then she saw him execute a slow, solemn wink.

Maggie almost sprang from her chair.

"Shall we take a little stroll, Miss Cameron?" Hunt asked. "I think it
will be some time before Miss Sherwood will want us for tea."

"Yes--thank you," Maggie stammered.

Hunt led her down a walk of white gravel to where a circle of Hiawat