speak again until
they reached the foot of Storm hill. There Channing stopped his car.

"Wake up, and run along home now, little girl," he said, his voice more
tender than he meant it to be.

She roused herself and smiled at him, a wonderful, wide smile. She was
very grateful to this new friend of hers for his sympathy, his
understanding, grateful for the glimpse he had given her of a world
hitherto unguessed, grateful for the look in his eyes at that moment.

"I do wish," she said, holding out both hands, "that I knew how to--to
thank you!"

Channing's admirable self-control slipped a cog. He took the hands. "I
can show you how to thank me," he said, quite hoarsely for a mere
collector of impressions.

She jerked her hands away, dimpling, and jumped out of the car. The
imminent prospect of being kissed had not shocked her--in fact, she was
rather surprised that she had not been kissed before. But she had her
instincts of the sex that flees. So she turned and ran, neither very
fast nor very far--

"Dear me!" she whispered presently against Channing's lips, "what would
old Philip say to this? He told me I couldn't be too careful with
strange men. I'm not being _very_ careful, am I?"

"Damn Philip! Kiss me again," said the author.

Breathless and radiant, she ran her blithe way up the dark hill road.
She had been hungry for other things than music and sympathy and
friendship, this youngest of the wild Kildares of Storm.

Her mother was standing in the door, Philip Benoix beside her.

"There you are, Jacky girl! I was just about to send Philip out to find
you, gadabout. Have you had any supper?"

"Oh, yes, Mummy darling, I took some with me." It was the first lie of
Jacqueline's life, and the ease with which it came surprised her. She
ran into her mother's arms and hugged her close. "Oh, Mummy, I am so
happy, happy!"

"There, there," murmured Kate, moved. "Glad to have me home again, my
precious? But you needn't crack my ribs in your belated ardor. Where
have you been so late?"

"Oh, just roaming around," she said vaguely. "The twilight was so
lovely."

"Little dreamer!" Sighing, she knew not why, Kate drew the glowing face
to her own.

But for once Jacqueline of the eager lips turned her cheek, so that her
mother's kiss should not disturb the memory of certain others.

CHAPTER XIX

If Mrs. Kildare's eyes had been of their usual observant keenness in
those days, she could not have failed to