ed she wouldn't go up to San
Francisco with her husband--or if she did, he must drive her back the
same night. She wouldn't even leave our house to get her things from
home; the doctor, poor man, packed some sort of bag for her and brought
it over. When he came back with it, she wasn't to be found; and she
never did appear until we were getting into the machine."

I listened, glancing anxiously toward the skyline of that little hill
over which Worth and Barbara might be expected to appear almost any
moment now. Then we made the turn at the end of the court, and my view
of it was cut off.

"Laura and Jim--they're the ones this is going to be hard on. I do feel
sorry for them. She's always been a problem to her family and friends. A
great deal's been overlooked. Everybody likes Jim; but--he's a
southerner; intrigue comes natural to them."

Five minutes before I had been listening to Edwards' pitiful defense of
this girl; I recalled his "scouting" for a chance to get her home unseen
and save her standing with her family. That could be classed as
intrigue, too, I suppose. We were strolling slowly toward the clubhouse.

"I don't give Dr. Bowman much," I said deliberately. A quick look came
my way, and,

"Mr. Gilbert was greatly attached to him. Everybody's always believed
that only Mr. Gilbert's influence held that match together. Now he's
dead, and Laura's freed from some sort of control he seemed to have over
her, of course she hopes and expects she'll be able to divorce the
doctor in peace and marry Jim."

"No movement of the sort yet?"

She stopped and faced round toward me.

"Dr. Bowman--he's our family physician, you know--is trying for a very
fine position away from here, in an exclusive sanitarium. Divorce
proceedings coming now would ruin his chances. But I don't know how long
he can persuade Laura to hold off. She's in a strange mood; I can't make
her out, myself. She disliked Gilbert; yet his death seems to have upset
her frightfully."

"You say she didn't like Mr. Gilbert?"

"They hated each other. But--he was so peculiar--of course that wasn't
strange. Many people detested him. Bron never did. He always forgave him
everything because he said he was insane. Bron told you my
experience--the one that made me break with Worth?"

She looked at me, a level look; no shifting of color, no flutter of
eyelid or throat. We were at the clubhouse steps.

"Here comes the boy himself," I warned as Worth and Barb