se
measurements revealed. The spirit that was growing in him called out
for bigger things, for the wild freedom which he had tasted for a time
with Gregson--for a life which was not warped by the gilded amenities
of the crowded ballroom to-night, by the frenzied dollar-fight
to-morrow. No one could understand that change in him. He could find no
spirit in sympathy with him, no chord in another breast that he could
reach out and touch and thrill with understanding. Once he had
hoped--and tried--

A deep breath, almost a sigh, fell from his lips as he thought of that
last night, at the Brokaw ball. He heard again the laughter and chatter
of men and women, the soft rustle of skirts--and then the break, the
silence, as the low, sweet music of his favorite waltz began, while he
stood screened behind a bank of palms looking down into the clear gray
eyes of Eileen Brokaw. He saw himself as he had stood then, leaning
over her slim white shoulders, intoxicated by her beauty, his face pale
with the fear of what he was about to say; and he saw the girl, with
her beautiful head thrown a little back, so that her golden hair almost
touched his lips, waiting for him to speak. For months he had fought
against the fascination of her beauty. Again and again he had almost
surrendered to it, only to pull himself back in time. He had seen this
girl, as pure-looking as an angel, strike deeply at the hearts of other
men; he had heard her laugh and talk lightly of the wounds she had
made. Behind the eyes which gazed up at him, dear and sweet as pools of
sunlit water, he knew there lay the consuming passion for power, for
admiration, for the froth-like pleasures of the life that was swirling
about them. Sincerity was but their mask. He knew that the beautiful
gray eyes lied to him when he saw in them all that he held glorious in
womanhood.

He laughed softly to himself as the picture grew in his mind, and he
saw Ransom come blundering in through the palms, mopping his red face
and chattering inane things to little Miss Meesen. Ransom was always
blundering. This time his blunder saved Philip. The passionate words
died on his lips; and when Ransom and Miss Meesen turned about in a
giggling flutter, he spoke no words of love, but opened up his heart to
this girl whom he would have loved if she had been like her eyes. It
was his last hope--that she would understand him, see with him the
emptiness of his life, sympathize with him.

And she had l