to me."

Cowperwood's gorge rose at her calling Lane Cross dear. It incensed
him, and yet he held his peace.

"Do give me your word that there will never be anything between you and
any of these men so long as you are friendly with me?" he almost
pleaded--a strange role for him. "I don't care to share you with any
one else. I won't. I don't mind what you have done in the past, but I
don't want you to be unfaithful in the future."

"What a question! Of course I won't. But if you don't believe me--oh,
dear--"

Stephanie sighed painfully, and Cowperwood's face clouded with angry
though well-concealed suspicion and jealousy.

"Well, I'll tell you, Stephanie, I believe you now. I'm going to take
your word. But if you do deceive me, and I should find it out, I will
quit you the same day. I do not care to share you with any one else.
What I can't understand, if you care for me, is how you can take so
much interest in all these affairs? It certainly isn't devotion to your
art that's impelling you, is it?"

"Oh, are you going to go on quarreling with me?" asked Stephanie,
naively. "Won't you believe me when I say that I love you? Perhaps--"
But here her histrionic ability came to her aid, and she sobbed
violently.

Cowperwood took her in his arms. "Never mind," he soothed. "I do
believe you. I do think you care for me. Only I wish you weren't such
a butterfly temperament, Stephanie."

So this particular lesion for the time being was healed.

Chapter XXVIII

The Exposure of Stephanie

At the same time the thought of readjusting her relations so that they
would avoid disloyalty to Cowperwood was never further from Stephanie's
mind. Let no one quarrel with Stephanie Platow. She was an unstable
chemical compound, artistic to her finger-tips, not understood or
properly guarded by her family. Her interest in Cowperwood, his force
and ability, was intense. So was her interest in Forbes Gurney--the
atmosphere of poetry that enveloped him. She studied him curiously on
the various occasions when they met, and, finding him bashful and
recessive, set out to lure him. She felt that he was lonely and
depressed and poor, and her womanly capacity for sympathy naturally
bade her be tender.

Her end was easily achieved. One night, when they were all out in
Bliss Bridge's single-sticker--a fast-sailing saucer--Stephanie and
Forbes Gurney sat forward of the mast looking at the silver moon track
which was