much
nowadays"]

"I warn you," she said at last, "that if you have anything to do with
me you will be sorry for it."

Laurie stopped his search, and, turning, gave her one of his straight
looks.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Because I'm in a net," she said. "And every one who tries to help me
gets caught in it, too. Oh, don't smile! You won't smile afterward."

He picked up a coat he discovered in a corner, and held it for her to
slip into.

"I like nets," he remarked lightly, "especially if they're
bright-colored, large, roomy, comfortable nets. We'll have some great
times in ours. Come along."

She shrugged her shoulders, and in the gesture slipped into the garment.

"I'll go," she said, in a low voice. "But don't forget that I warned
you!"

CHAPTER IV

A PAIR OF GRAY EYES

On their way to the restaurant Laurie had selected he chatted to his
companion in his buoyant, irresponsible fashion, but he had put through
the details of the episode with tact and delicacy. He knew that in front
of a club two doors away from the studio building a short line of
taxicabs was always waiting, with the vast patience of their kind. A
gesture brought one of these to the door, and when it had squawked its
way around the corner, the girl remained in its shelter until Laurie had
briefly reentered his own building and emerged again, wearing his coat
and hat.

To the selection of the restaurant he gave careful thought. They drove
to a quiet place where the food and service were excellent, while the
prices were an effective barrier against a crowd. When he and his
companion were seated on opposite sides of a table in an isolated
corner, Laurie confided his order to the waiter, urged that willing
individual to special haste, and smiled apologetically at the lady.

"I'm hungry," he said briskly. "I haven't had any breakfast this
morning. Don't be surprised if I seem to absorb most of the nourishment
in the place."

He studied her as he spoke. It was easy to do so, for she seemed almost
to have forgotten him and her surroundings. She sat drooping forward a
little in her pet attitude, with her elbows on the table, and her chin
in her hand, staring through the window with the look he had seen in the
mirror. The lethargy he dreaded again enveloped her like a garment.

His heart sank. Here was something more than the victim of a mad but
temporary impulse. Here was a victim of a sick soul, or of a burden
greater than she could