d.

"Why?" he asked innocently. "There's nothing wrong in going to the
Adirondacks--is there, Cecil?"

"No," said Mr. Grainger, blinking rapidly.

"The Adirondacks," declared Mrs. Kame, "have now become classic."

"By the way," observed Mr. Grainger, "I believe Bessie's in town to-day
at a charity pow-wow, reading a paper. I've half a mind to go over and
listen to it. The white dove of peace--and all that kind of thing."

"You'd go to sleep and spoil it all," said Brent.

"But you can't, Cecil!" cried Mrs. Kame. "Don't you remember we're going
to Westchester to the Faunces' to spend the night and play bridge? And
we promised to arrive early."

"That's so, by George," said Mr. Grainger, and he drank the rest of his
whiskey-and-soda.

"I'll tell you what I'll do, if Mrs. Spence is willing," suggested
Brent. "If you start right after lunch, I'll take you out. We'll have
plenty of time," he added to Honora, "to get back to Quicksands for
dinner."

"Are you sure?" she asked anxiously. "I have people for dinner tonight."

"Oh, lots of time," declared Mrs. Kame. "Trixy's car is some unheard-of
horse-power. It's only twenty-five miles to the Faunces', and you'll be
back at the ferry by half-past four."

"Easily," said Trixton Brent.

CHAPTER X. ON THE ART OF LION TAMING

After lunch, while Mrs. Kame was telephoning to her maid and Mr.
Grainger to Mrs. Faunce, Honora found herself alone with Trixton Brent
in the automobile at a moment when the Quicksands party were taking a
cab. Mrs. Chandos parsed long enough to wave her hand.

"Bon voyage!" she cried. "What an ideal party! and the chauffeur doesn't
understand English. If you don't turn up this evening, Honora, I'll
entertain your guests."

"We must get back," said Honora, involuntarily to Brent. "It would be
too dreadful if we didn't!"

"Are you afraid I'll run off with you?" he asked.

"I believe you're perfectly capable of it," she replied. "If I were
wise, I'd take the train."

"Why don't you?" he demanded.

She smiled.

"I don't know. It's because of your deteriorating influence, I suppose.
And yet I trust you, in spite of my instincts and--my eyes. I'm
seriously put out with you."

"Why?"

"I'll tell you later, if you're at a loss," she said, as Mrs. Kame and
Mr. Grainger appeared.

Eight years have elapsed since that day and this writing--an aeon in
this rapidly moving Republic of ours. The roads, although far from
perfect yet, were