arated. The women gathered in a little knot around the
fireplaces to smoke and talked about the wind. It got on their nerves,
they asserted querulously.

"It's the one thing I can't stand in California," a pretty little woman,
who had recently taken up her residence on the Coast, remarked in a tone
of personal grievance.

"We have had a great deal of north wind this year," another said.

Adelle made no comment. The weather never interested her. It was one of
the large impersonal facts of life, outside her control, that she
accepted without criticism. The men stayed away a long time in Archie's
"library" in the other wing, probably talking polo or business, and
cosily enjoying their coffee, liqueurs, and cigars. Archie's cigars took
a long time to smoke and the older men usually had two. The women were
bored. Irene Pointer yawned openly in her corner by the fire. She and
her old friend rarely exchanged remarks these days. Irene avoided
Adelle, which Adelle was beginning to perceive. It was understood in the
colony that Irene Pointer did not approve of the way in which Adelle
"managed" her husband, and told her so. Irene herself was very discreet,
and "managed" George Pointer admirably so that she had a great deal of
freedom, and he was perfectly content.

At last the men drifted back and stood in a row before the blazing fire.
Archie had in the victrola once more and tried to start them dancing,
but the hall was too crowded with furniture and the drawing-room could
not be used. He wanted to have the dining-room cleared, but there was a
spirit of restlessness among the guests. They could not revive the
gayety of the dinner-table. It was not long before the last motor had
rolled down the drive. Archie came back into the hall from the door
after speeding his guests and stood moodily staring at Adelle. He was
vexed. The party had been a failure,--dull. And she knew that he thought
her responsible for it. She expected an outburst, for Archie did not
usually take any pains to control his feelings. She waited. She knew
that if he spoke she should say something this time. She would probably
regret it, but she might even tell him her secret, as the easiest way to
crush him utterly. She looked at him, a dangerous light in her gray
eyes.

This was the man she had craved so utterly that she had run every risk
to possess him! Irene had called him "a bounder"; and now he was "going
too far" with Irene--not that she especially car