go down, to step between them, to have it
out with Dalrymple then and there, even in Sylvia's presence; but they
strolled back to the house almost immediately, and Sylvia lost her
apparent good humour, and Dalrymple descended from satisfaction to a
fidgety apprehension. Sylvia met George's hand briefly.

"You'll be here long?"

The question expressed a wish.

"Only until Monday. I wish it might be longer, for I'm glad to find
you--and you, Dalrymple."

"Nobody said you were expected," Dalrymple grumbled. "Everybody said you
were working like a horse."

George glanced at Sylvia, smiling blandly.

"Every horse goes to grass occasionally."

He turned back to Dalrymple.

"I daresay you know Lambert and Betty are due back the first of the
week?"

Sylvia nodded carelessly, and started along the verandah. Dalrymple,
reddening, prepared to heel, but George beckoned him back.

"I'd like a word with you."

Sylvia glanced around, probably surprised at the sharp, authoritative
tone.

"Just a minute, Sylvia," Dalrymple apologized uneasily. "Little
business. Hard to catch Morton. Must grasp opportunity, and all that."

And when they were alone he went close to George eagerly.

"No need to wait for Betty and Lambert, Morton. It's done. Dolly's got
himself thrown over----"

"I don't believe you," George said.

"Why not?"

"What are you doing here?" George asked. "It was understood you should
avoid her."

Dalrymple's grin was sickly.

"Way she's tearing around now I'd have exactly no place to go."

"You seemed rather too friendly," George pointed out, "for parties to a
broken engagement."

George fancied there was something of anger in the other's face.

"Must say I'm not flattered by that. Guess you were right. One heart's
not smashed, anyway."

George turned on his heel. Dalrymple caught him.

"What about those notes?"

"I don't trust you, Dalrymple. I'll keep my eye on you yet awhile."

"Ask Sylvia if you want," Dalrymple cried.

George smiled.

"I wonder if I could."

He went to his room, trying to believe Dalrymple. Was that romance
really in the same class as the one with Blodgett? If so, why did she
involve herself in restive affairs with less obvious men? As best he
could he tried to find out that night when she was a little off guard
because of some unquiet statements she had just made of Russian
rumours.

"You don't mean those things," he said, "or else you've no idea what
they mean."