cing up and down her room, little fists clenched, her soul in
passionate turmoil, Beatrice went over it all again as she had done
through a sleepless night. She had given him so much, and he had
seemed to give her even more. Hours filled with a keen-edged delight
jumped to her memory, hours that had carried her away from the
falseness of social fribble to clean, wind-swept, open spaces of the
mind. And after this--after he had tacitly recognized her claim on
him--he had insulted her before her friends by deserting his guests to
go off with this hussy he had been spending weeks to search for.

Now his little henchman had the imbecility to ask her help while this
girl was living at Clay Lindsay's apartment, passing herself off as his
sister, and proposing to stay there ostensibly as the housekeeper. She
felt degraded, humiliated, she told herself. Not for a moment did she
admit, perhaps she did not know, that an insane jealousy was flooding
her being, that her indignation was based on personal as well as moral
grounds.

Something primitive stirred in her--a flare of feminine ferocity. She
felt hot to the touch, an active volcano ready for eruption. If only
she could get a chance to strike back in a way that would hurt, to
wound him as deeply as he had her!

Pat to her desire came the opportunity. Clay's card was brought in to
her by Jenkins.

"Tell Mr. Lindsay I'll see him in a few minutes," she told the man.

The few minutes stretched to a long quarter of an hour before she
descended. To the outward eye at least Miss Whitford looked a woman of
the world, sheathed in a plate armor of conventionality. As soon as
his eyes fell on her Clay knew that this pale, slim girl in the
close-fitting gown was a stranger to him. Her eyes, star-bright and
burning like live coals, warned him that the friend whose youth had run
out so eagerly to meet his was hidden deep in her to-day.

"I reckon I owe you and Mr. Whitford an apology," he said. "No need to
tell you how I happened to leave last night. I expect you know."

"I know why you left--yes."

"I'd like to explain it to you so you'll understand."

"Why take the trouble? I think I understand." She spoke in an even,
schooled voice that set him at a distance.

"Still, I want you to know how I feel."

"Is that important? I see what you do. That is enough. Your friend
Mr. Green has carefully brought me the details I didn't know."

Clay flushed. Her clear v