e saw you and spoke to you and didn't say one word about
me. And just a year ago at Christmas time, do you remember, Uncle Rod?
The flowers he sent, and the pearl ring--and now the flowers are dead,
and the ring went back to him.

"Oh, I can't talk about it even to you!

"Well, all the evening Eve Chesley held the center of the stage. And the
funny part of it was that I found myself much interested in the things
she had to tell. Her life is a sort of Arabian Nights' existence. She
lives with her Aunt Maude in a big house east of Central Park, and she
told about the green parrot for her new black and white breakfast room,
and the flame-colored fishes in an aquarium--and she is having her opals
set in platinum to go with a silver gown that she is to wear at the
Dutton-Ames dance.

"I like the Dutton-Ames. He is dark and massive--a splendid foil for his
wife's slenderness and fairness. They are much in love with each other.
He always sits beside her if he can, and she looks up at him and smiles,
and last night I saw him take her hand where it hung among the folds of
her gown, and he held it after that--and it made me think of father and
mother--and of the way they cared. Jimmie Ford could never care like
that--but Dr. Richard could. He cares that way for his mother--he could
care for the woman he loved.

"He took me home in Mr. Meade's limousine. It was moonlight, and he told
the chauffeur to drive the long way by the river road.

"I like him very much. He believes in things, and--and I rather think,
that _his_ ship is packed with dreams--but I am not sure, Uncle Rod."

* * * * *

It was when Anne had come in from her moonlight ride with Richard,
shutting the door carefully behind her, that she found Geoffrey Fox
waiting for her in the big front room.

"Oh," she stammered.

"And you really have the grace to blush? Do you know what time it is?"

"No."

"Twelve! Midnight! And you have been riding with only the chauffeur for
chaperone."

"Well?"

"And you have kept me waiting. That's the worst of it. You may break all
of the conventional commandments if you wish. But you mustn't keep me
waiting."

His laugh rang high, his cheeks were flushed. Anne had never seen him in
a mood like this. In his loose coat with a flowing black tie and with his
ruffled hair curling close about his ears, he looked boyish and handsome
like the pictures she had seen of Byron in an old book.

"Sit d