his turn to show surprise.

"You believe that?"

"I do. More than that--I have always thought that I knew your secret--the
big, hidden thing under your work, the thing which you do not reveal
because you know the world would laugh at you. And so--_you despise me!_"

"Not you."

"I am a woman."

He laughed. The tan in his cheeks burned a deeper red.

"We are wasting time," he warned her. "In Bill's place I heard you say you
were going to leave on the Tete Jaune train. I am going to take you to a
real dinner. And now--I should let those good people know your name."

A moment--unflinching and steady--she looked into his face.

"It is Joanne, the name you have made famous as the dreadfulest woman in
fiction. Joanne Gray."

"I am sorry," he said, and bowed low. "Come. If I am not mistaken I smell
new-baked bread."

As they moved on he suddenly touched her arm. She felt for a moment the
firm clasp of his fingers. There was a new light in his eyes, a glow of
enthusiasm.

"I have it!" he cried. "You have brought it to me--the idea. I have been
wanting a name for _her_--the woman in my new book. She is to be a
tremendous surprise. I haven't found a name, until now--one that fits. I
shall call her Ladygray!"

He felt the girl flinch. He was surprised at the sudden startled look that
shot into her eyes, the swift ebbing of the colour from her cheeks. He drew
away his hand at the strange change in her. He noticed how quickly she was
breathing--that the fingers of her white hands were clasped tensely.

"You object," he said.

"Not enough to keep you from using it," she replied in a low voice. "I owe
you a great deal." He noted, too, how quickly she had recovered herself.
Her head was a little higher. She looked toward the tents. "You were not
mistaken," she added. "I smell new-made bread!"

"And I shall emphasize the first half of it--_Lady_gray," said John Aldous,
as if speaking to himself. "That diminutizes it, you might say--gives it
the touch of sentiment I want. You can imagine a lover saying 'Dear little
_Lady_gray, are you warm and comfy?' He wouldn't say Ladygray as if she
wore a coronet, would he?"

"Smell-o'-bread--fresh bread!" sniffed Joanne Gray, as if she had not heard
him. "It's making me hungry. Will you please hurry me to it, John Aldous?"

They were approaching the first of the three tent-houses, over which was a
crudely painted sign which read "Otto Brothers, Guides and Outfitters." It
was a