that sixth sense of man which is so keen at certain
moments of mental distress that all of Gloria's friends were wondering
about him, where he came from, "what his business was." He was tanned,
rugged. He was not of them. He fancied, sensitively, that among
themselves they laughed at him. As he sat with Gloria and found little
to say, he was conscious of her eyes probing at him when she thought
that he did not see. He looked away, a shadow in his eyes, and chanced
to see Gratton. Gratton, who had struck him as contemptible in the
woods, a misfit and a poor sort of man at best, was here on his own
heath. He carried himself well, he talked well; he bore himself with a
certain distinction. Clearly he was much in favour among the girls and
women, much envied by the younger men. Yes; Gloria was right: this was
another sort of wilderness where Mark King was the misfit, where Gratton
was as much in tone with his environment as was King among the forest
and crags of the ridges.

Another dance. Gloria excused herself lightly and escaped into the arms
of Gratton himself. Escaped! King understood; that was the word for it.
He watched them; saw Gratton whisper something into her ear, saw Gloria
toss her head, saw her cheeks flush. Then Gratton laughed and she
laughed with him. They danced wonderfully together, swaying together
like two reeds in the same gentle wind. Others than King noticed; there
were knowing smiles. At the end of the dance King saw the look which
Gloria, flushed and happy, flashed up at Gratton, and his heart
contracted in a sudden spasm of pain.

When again couples were seeking each other to the jazzy invitation of
the musicians, King slipped away and went outside. He stood in the
shadows of the porch seeking to get a grip on himself. In a moment he
would go in and say good-night to Mrs. Gaynor; he'd say good-night to
Gloria; he would go and put an end to a hideous nightmare. He held
himself very much of a fool, and he knew that he was fanciful. But he
was of no mind to stay.

Two or three couples came out; he remained unnoticed in the darkness. He
heard a girl's voice:

"But _who_ is he? I think he's terribly handsome. And
distinguished-looking. Superior to our kind of nonsense."

"Who are you talking about, Betty?" Her dancing partner pretended to be
in doubt. "Me?"

A whirlwind of girls' laughter. Then one of them saying:

"_You_ distinguished-looking! Or handsome! She means the
sixty-nine-dollar ser