more serious than they have to be.
But they all were helplessly, hopelessly caught in the magic, gossamer
web of Athalie's beauty and personal charm; and some merely kicked and
buzzed and some tried to rend the frail rainbow fabric, and some
struggled silently against they knew not what--themselves probably.
And some, like Dane, hung motionless, enmeshed, knowing that to
struggle was futile. And some, like Clive, were still lying under her
jewelled feet in the very centre of the sorcery, so far silent and
unstirring, awaiting to see whether the grace of God would fall upon
them or the _coup-de-grace_ that ended all. Eventually, however, like
all other men, Clive gave signs of life and impatience.

"_Can't_ you love me, Athalie?" he said abruptly one night, when they
had returned from the theatre and he had already taken his leave--and
had come back from the door to take it again more tenderly. The girl
let him kiss her.

She, in her clinging, sparkling evening gown was standing by her
crystal, the fingers of one hand lightly poised upon it, looking down
at it.

"Love you, Clive," she repeated in smiling surprise. "Why, I do, you
dear, foolish boy. I've admitted it to you. Also haven't you just
kissed me?"

"I know.... But I mean--couldn't you love me above all other
men--above everything in this world--"

"But I _do_! Were you annoyed because I was silly with Cecil
to-night?"

"No.... I understand. You simply can't help turning everybody's head.
It's in you,--it's part of you--"

"I'm merely having a good time," she protested. "It means no more than
you see, when I flirt with other men.... It never goes any
farther--except--once or twice I have let men kiss me.... Only two or
three.... Before you came back, of course--"

"I didn't know that," he said sullenly.

"Didn't you? Then the men were more decent than I supposed.... Yes, I
let John Lyndhurst kiss me once. And Francis Hargrave did it.... And
Jim Allys tried to, against my wishes--but he never attempted it after
that."

She had been looking down again at the crystal while speaking; her
attitude was penitential, but the faint smile on her lips adorably
mischievous. Presently she glanced up at him to see how he was taking
it. He must have been taking it very badly, for:

"Clive!" she said, startled; "are you really annoyed with me?"

The gathering scowl faded and he forced a smile. Then the frown
returned; he flung one arm around her supple waist an