riends of whom Don would disapprove?"

"No. Don trusts me."

"But he does not trust the world, Flamby, any more than I do, and the
world can slay the innocent as readily as the guilty."

"_I_ know!" cried Flamby, looking up quickly. "It was Mr. Thessaly who
told you."

"Who told me what?"

"That he had seen me at supper with Orlando James. I didn't see him, but
James said he was there."

She met Paul's gaze for a moment and tried to withdraw her hands, but he
held them fast, and presently Flamby looked down again at the carpet.

"Whoever told me," said Paul, "it is the truth. Do you write often to
Don?"

"Yes--sometimes."

"Then write and ask him if he thinks you should be seen about with
Orlando James and I shall be content if you will promise to abide by his
reply. Will you do that, Flamby? Please don't be angry with me because I
try to help you. I have lived longer than you and I have learned that if
we scorn the world's opinion the world will have its revenge. Will you
promise?"

"Yes," said Flamby, all humility again.

Paul stood up, taking his hat from the floor and beginning to button his
Burberry. "I am coming to see you at the school one day soon, but if
ever there is anything you want to tell me or if ever I can be of the
slightest use to you, telephone to me, Flamby. Don't regard me as a
bogey-man." Flamby had stood up, too, and now Paul held her by the
shoulders looking at her charming downcast face. "We are friends, are we
not, little Flamby?"

Flamby glanced up swiftly. "Yes," she said. "Thank you for thinking
about me."

XII

The rain-swept deserted streets made a curious appeal to Paul that
night--an appeal to something in his mood that was feverish and unquiet,
that first had stirred in response to an apparently chance remark of
Thessaly's and that had sent him out to seek Flamby in despite of the
weather and the late hour. He did not strive to analyse it, but rather
sought to quench it, unknown, and his joy in the steady downpour was a
reflection of this sub-conscious state. Self-distrust, vague and
indefinite, touched him unaccountably. He considered the intellectual
uproar (for it was nothing less) which he had occasioned by the
publication of his two papers--comprising as they did selections from
the first part of his book. The attitude of the Church alone indicated
how shrewdly he had struck. He had bred no mere nine days' wonder but
had sowed a seed which, steadily propagatin