Here it was all industry, money,
dirt. Men who slaved in offices daily. At Newport was gathered the real
leisure class of America, those who knew how to play, who lived. But
Lily, taking off her birthday pearls before the mirror of her dressing
table, only shook her head.

"I'm not going," she said. "I might as well tell you, for you'll hear
about it later. I have quarreled with him, very badly. I think he
intends to lock me up."

"C'est impossible!" cried Mademoiselle.

But a glance at Lily's set face in the mirror told her it was true.

She went away very soon, sadly troubled. There were bad times coming.
The old peaceful quiet days were gone, for age and obstinacy had met
youth and the arrogance of youth, and it was to be battle.

CHAPTER XVII

But there was a truce for a time. Lily came and went without
interference, and without comment. Nothing more was said about Newport.
She motored on bright days to the country club, lunched and played golf
or tennis, rode along the country lanes with Pink Denslow, accepted such
invitations as came her way cheerfully enough but without enthusiasm,
and was very gentle to her mother. But Mademoiselle found her tense and
restless, as though she were waiting.

And there were times when she disappeared for an hour or two in the
afternoons, proffering no excuses, and came back flushed, and perhaps a
little frightened. On the evenings that followed those small excursions
she was particularly gentle to her mother. Mademoiselle watched and
waited for the blow she feared was about to fall. She felt sure that the
girl was seeing Louis Akers, and that she would ultimately marry him. In
her despair she fell back on Willy Cameron and persuaded Grace to invite
him to dinner. It was meant to be a surprise for Lily, but she had
telephoned at seven o'clock that she was dining at the Doyles'.

It was that evening that Willy Cameron learned that Mr. Hendricks had
been right about Lily. He and Grace dined alone, for Howard was away at
a political conference, and Anthony had dined at his club. And in the
morning room after dinner Grace found herself giving him her confidence.

"I have no right to burden you with our troubles, Mr. Cameron," Grace
said, "but she is so fond of you, and she has great respect for your
judgment. If you could only talk to her about the anxiety she is
causing. These Doyles, or rather Mr. Doyle--the wife is Mr. Cardew's
sister--are putting all sorts of ideas i