er companion.... There were hardships--tight corners--we had a bad
time of it for a while, along the Andes.... And the natives are
treacherous--every one of them.... He was a good comrade. No man can
say more than that, Miss Greensleeve. That includes about everything I
ever heard of--when a man proves to be a good comrade. And there is no
place on earth where a man can be so thoroughly tried out as in that
sunless wilderness."

"Is he stopping at the Great Eastern?"

"Yes. I believe he's going back on Saturday."

She looked up sharply: "Back? Where?"

"Oh, not to Peru. Only to England," said Dane, forcing a laugh.

After a moment she said: "And he wouldn't come.... It is only three
blocks, isn't it?"

"It wasn't the distance, of course--"

"No; I remember. He thought I might not have cared to see him."

"That was it."

Another silence; then in a lower voice which sounded a little hard:
"His wife is living in England, I suppose."

"She is living--I don't know where."

"Have they--children?"

"I believe not."

She remained silent for a while, then, coolly enough:

"I suppose he is sailing on Saturday to see his wife."

"I think not," said Dane, gravely.

"You say he is sailing for England."

"Yes, but I imagine it's because he has nowhere else to go."

"Why doesn't he stay here?"

"I don't know."

"He is American. His friends live here. Why doesn't he remain here?"

Dane shook his head: "He's a restless man, Miss Greensleeve. That kind
of man can't stay anywhere. He's got to go on--somewhere."

"I see."

There came a pause; then they talked of other things for a while until
other people began to drop in, Arthur Ensart, Anne Randolph, and young
Welter--Helter Skelter Welter, always, metaphorically speaking,
redolent of saddle leather and reeking of sport. His theme happened to
be his own wonderful trap record, that evening; and the fat,
good-humoured, ardent young man prattled on about "unknown angles,"
and "incomers," until Dane, who had been hunting jaguars and cannibals
along the unknown Andes, concealed his yawns with difficulty.

Ensart insisted on turning on the lights and starting the machine; and
presently Anne Randolph and Peggy were dancing the Miraflores with
Cecil and Ensart.

Welter had cornered Hargrave and Dane and was telling them all about
it, and Athalie went slowly through the passage-way and into her own
bedroom, where she stood quite motionless for a while, looking at