t or distort it. I am
not arguing against marriage, but against hypocrisy. We may as well
recognize that sex desire is so strong a force in the world--that--"

To all of this Penelope had listened with ill-concealed aversion, now
she could no longer restrain her impatience. "Ridiculous!" she
interrupted. "You exasperate me with your talk about the compelling
claims of oversexed individuals. Let them learn to behave themselves and
control themselves."

"Mrs. Wells is absolutely right," agreed Captain Herrick quietly, his
eyes challenging Brown. "If certain men insist on behaving like
orang-outangs in the jungle, then society should treat them as
orang-outangs."

This incisive statement somewhat jarred the poet's self-sufficiency and
he subsided for the moment, but jealousy is a cunning adversary and the
rival awaited his opportunity for counter-attack.

As the discussion proceeded Kendall noticed that one of the loose pages
from Penelope's diary had fluttered to the floor and, recovering this,
he glanced at it carelessly, then smiled as he plucked at his yellow
beard.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Wells," he said. "I could not help reading a few words.
Won't you go on with your confession--please do. It sounds so
wonderfully interesting. See--there--at the bottom!" He pointed to the
lines.

"Oh!" she murmured as she saw the writing, and two spots of color burned
in her cheeks. "Let me have it--I insist!"

"Certainly. But do read it to us. This is a real human interest story.
_'Let me bow my head in shame and humble my spirit in the dust'_--wasn't
that it?" laughed Kendall maliciously.

At this, seeing the frightened look in Penelope's eyes, Captain Herrick
stormed in: "You had no right to read those words or repeat them."

"I am sorry, Mrs. Wells. I meant no offense," apologized the poet,
realizing that he had gone too far, but the harm was done. Something
unaccountably serious had happened to Penelope Wells. Her face had gone
deathly white, and Roberta, suddenly sympathetic, hastened to her.

"It's a shame to tease you, dearie. No more confession stuff. Now,
folks, we'll have supper--down in the restaurant. Then we'll dance. Come
on! Feeling better, Pen? What you need is a cocktail and some
champagne."

But Penelope lay like a stricken creature, her beautiful head limp
against the pillow of her chair, her eyes filled with pain.

"I--I'll be all right in a minute, Bobby," she whispered. "Please go
down now--all of yo