ghed, softly, "that rumours seldom
materialize."

What did she mean by that? Before he could go after an answer Mrs.
Sinclair came down, joined them, and explained that Sylvia was tired and
didn't want any one bothered. George's exaltation increased. He hoped he
had hurt her, as he had always wanted to. Blodgett, accompanied by
Wandel and Dalrymple, wandered from the smoking-room, seeking news.
George felt every muscle tighten, for Blodgett, at sight of Mrs.
Sinclair, roared:

"Where is Sylvia?"

The gross familiarity held him momentarily convinced, then he
remembered that Blodgett was eager to make progress with such people,
quick to snatch at every advantage. Sylvia wasn't here to rebuke him.
Under the circumstances, the others couldn't very well. As a matter of
fact, they appeared to notice nothing. Of course it wasn't Blodgett.

"In her room with a headache," Mrs. Sinclair answered. "She may come
down later."

"Headaches," Wandel said, "cover a multitude of whims."

George didn't like his tone. Wandel always gave you the impression of a
vision subtle and disconcerting.

Dalrymple, in spite of his confused state, was caught rattling off
questions at Mrs. Sinclair, too full of concern, while George watched
him, wondering--wondering.

"Must have her own way," Blodgett interrupted. "Bridge! Let's cut in or
make another table. George?"

George and Betty shook their heads, so Blodgett, with that air of a
showman leading his spectators to some fresh surprise, hurried the
others away. George didn't attempt to hide his distaste. He stared at
the fire. Hang Blodgett and his familiarities!

"What are you thinking about, George?"

"Would you have come here, Betty, of your own wish?"

"Why not?"

"Blodgett."

"What about the old dear?"

George started, turned, and looked full at her. There was no question.
She meant it, and earlier in the evening Lambert had said nearly any
girl would marry Blodgett. What had become of his own judgment? He felt
the necessity of defending it.

"He's too precious happy to have people like you in his house. You know
perfectly well he hasn't always been able to do it."

"Isn't that why everyone likes him," she asked, "because he's so
completely unaffected?"

George understood he was on thin ice. He didn't deviate.

"You mean he's all the more admirable because he hasn't plastered
himself with veneer?"

Her white cheeks flushed. She was as nearly angry as he had ever seen