et the top-hat and the trampled roses. The
ineffectualness of all passion loomed large. It might have its value as
an educative process, but what a waste of energy! For the moment he drew
no distinction between Adair's guilty hankering after something which
was forbidden and his own honorable love for Terry. The end of all
passion was futility.

Then he laughed, for in imagination he saw the world as a crestfallen
caricature of George Grossmith, top-hatted and bespatted, wending its
unfestive way through the centuries to an eternal garden-party, from
which Adam and his lineage were forever debarred.

V

His exit from Mulberry Tree Court had been so hurried that he had had no
time to make arrangements with Terry.

He had no sooner knocked than the door was opened by Maisie. He was
slightly embarrassed at being brought face to face with her thus
suddenly after the last scene that they had shared. He entered in a
tentative manner, only just crossing the threshold, as though he had not
much time to spare.

"I called in," he apologized, "because I thought you'd like to know what
happened--and to fetch Terry."

"Of course." She spoke with a cheerfulness that astonished him. "I was
expecting you." With that she led the way across the hall to the
drawing-room.

Carrying his hat, he followed. He clung to his hat purposely; it would
serve as a reminder that he had not come to stay long. She was on the
point of seating herself, when she spotted it. "Oh, how rude of me!" In
the twinkling of an eye she had deprived him of it and vanished.
"Captured once more!" he thought.

During the few seconds that she was gone, he looked about him.
Everything was as it had been yesterday. A companionable fire glowed in
the grate. On a table beside the couch tea was spread. Even as
yesterday, the nearest chair to the couch was at least six feet away,
making it necessary for any one who did not wish to appear boorish to
share the couch with her. There was something else that he had noticed
on entering: while he had been away she had made a complete change of
toilet. She was now dressed in a filmy gown of emerald green, with
shoes, stockings and buckles to match. It was a gown so _chic_ that, had
he been a woman, he would have guessed at once that it was the latest
from Paquin's. Inasmuch as he was a man, his sole comment was, "Plucky
little thorough-bred! You don't catch her owning that she's down." The
emerald shade brought out all th