e held her in his arms in the car all the way to Foreland Farms.
Dulcie, however, had possessed herself of Thessalie's left hand, and
when she stroked it and pressed it to her lips the girl's tightening
fingers responded, and she always smiled.

"I'm just tired and sore," she explained languidly. "Ferez battered me
about so dreadfully!... It was so mortifying. I despised him all the
time. It made me furious to be handled by such a contemptible and
cowardly creature."

"It's a matter for the police, now," remarked Barres gloomily.

"Oh, Garry!" she exclaimed. "What a very horrid ending to the moonlit
way we took together so long ago!--the lovely silvery path of
Pierrot!"

"The story of Pierrot is a tragedy, Thessa! We have been luckier on
our moonlit way."

"Than Pierrot and Pierrette?"

"Yes. Death always saunters along the path of the moon, watching for
those who take it.... You are very fortunate, Pierrette."

"Yes," she murmured, "I am fortunate.... Am I not, Jim?" she added,
looking up wistfully into his shadowy face above her.

"I don't know about that," he said, "but there'll be no more moonlight
business for you unless I'm with you. And under those circumstances,"
he added, "I'll knock the block off Old Man Death if he tries to flirt
with you!"

"How brutal! Garry, do you hear his language to me?"

"I hear," said Barres, laughing. "Your young man is a very matter of
fact young man, Thessa, and I fancy he means what he says."

She looked up at Westmore; her lips barely moved:

"Do you--dear?"

"You bet I do," he whispered. "I'll pull this planet to pieces looking
for you if you ever again steal away to a rendezvous with Old Man
Death."

* * * * *

When the car arrived at Foreland Farms, Thessalie felt able to proceed
to her room upon her own legs, and with Dulcie's arm around her.

Westmore bade her good-night, kissing her hand--awkwardly--not being
convincing in any role requiring attitudes.

He wanted to take her into his arms, but seemed to know enough not to
do it. Probably she divined his irresolute state of mind, for she
extended her hand in a pretty manner quite unmistakable. And the
romantic education of James H. Westmore began.

Barres lingered at the door after Westmore departed, obeying a
whispered aside from Dulcie. She came out in a few moments, carefully
closing the bedroom door, and stood so, one hand behind her still
resting on the knob.

"Th