ert's excuse for
rushing out the night before.

George felt sorry for Mrs. Sinclair. Still against the corpulent
crudities of her host she could weigh the graces of his guests. It
pleased George that her greeting for him should be so warm.

The weather, too, had been considerate of Blodgett, refraining from
injuring his snow or ice. A musical and brassy sleigh met George at the
station. Patches of frosty white softened the lines of the house and
draped the self-conscious nudity of the sculpture in the sunken garden.

"And it'll snow again to-night, sir," the driver promised, as if even
the stables pulled for the master's success.

Everyone was out, but it was still early, so George asked for a horse
and hurried into his riding clothes. He had been working rather too hard
recently. The horse a groom brought around was a good one, and by no
means overworked. George was as eager as the animal to limber up and go.
Off they dashed at last along a winding bridle-path, broken just enough
to give good footing. The war, and his share of helping the allies--at a
price; his uncomfortable fear that the Baillys didn't like him to draw
success from such a disaster; his disapproval of Sylvia's coming
here--all cleared from his head as he galloped or trotted through the
sharp air.

One thing: Blodgett hadn't spoiled these woodland bridle-paths; yet
George had a sensation of always looking ahead for a nude marble figure
at a corner, or an urn elaborately designed for simple flowers, or some
iron animals to remind a hunter that Blodgett knew what a well-bred
forest was for. Instead he saw through the trees ice swept clear of snow
across which figures glided with joyful sounds.

"Some of his flashy guests," George thought.

He rode slowly to the margin of the pond, which shared the colour of the
sky. Several of the skaters cried greetings. He recognized Dalrymple
then, skating with a girl. Dalrymple veered away, waving a careless
hand, Lambert came on, fingers locked with Betty's, and scraped to a
halt at the pond's edge.

"So the war's stopped for the week-end at last?" Lambert called.

"I wondered if you'd come at all," Betty cried.

George dismounted, smothering his surprise.

"A men and youths' general furnisher," he said, "has to stick pretty
much to the store. I never dreamed of seeing you here, Betty."

Perhaps Lambert caught George's real meaning.

"She's staying with Sylvia," he explained, "so, of course, she came.