hn's eyes before she answered:

"Reggie, you must excuse me. I'll be along shortly--with Mr. Gallant."

"Very well," Gibson turned leisurely and they watched him walk away.

He was only slightly incensed by Gibson's deliberate insult in strolling
away without acknowledging, by even so much as a nod of his head, their
introduction to each other by Consuello. He felt a tinge of
satisfaction, of even vengeance.

"You mustn't let me keep you," he said, as he saw she still looked at
Gibson's retreating figure and that an expression of astonishment was
puzzling her face.

"It was wrong of him--I do not understand," she said. She laughed
lightly. "But you must not believe him a villain. It was so unlike him.
I'm sure he will tell you so himself before you leave."

The hum of starting motors came to them and through the trees John saw
the first of the long line of automobiles go up the driveway toward the
house. The fete was ending; the guests were leaving. He remembered why
he was there; his appointment to meet Mrs. Randolph's secretary. They
started across the lawn.

"Mrs. Randolph will believe I'm lost," she said. "I shouldn't be
surprised if she has already sent someone to look for me."

"I hope----" he began.

"Yes."

"I hope you do not feel I have been bold," he said. "It was rude and
presumptuous for me to say the things I did to you. Please try to
understand and forgive me."

"If I say I believe I understand and that there is nothing to forgive,
will you think me vain?" she asked.

They reached the driveway. Luxurious sedans and limousines with liveried
chauffeurs blocked their crossing. She turned to him, her hand extended.

"Good afternoon," she said. "Sometime, soon perhaps, if you wish, we
will meet again; you will hear from me, because--because I--think you
meant it." She added the final words lightly and with a smile.

"I did," he said.

She turned to the driveway. An automobile stopped and she crossed over
in the gap of the line of motors it made for her. The machine moved
forward again, blocking any sight of her as she went on toward the
house.

The list of guests and the amount of money netted by the fete he
received from Mrs. Randolph's secretary in neatly typewritten lists. The
last of the motors were chugging up the driveway as he left. He walked
out into the street, toward the car line, bound for his office.

As he waited at the corner for his car a low, rakish roadster stopped
before