the whole world, myself
included, I walk into town; at other times I ride in the car."

"Are you walking to-day?" she asked him.

"I am," he answered.

"Then I intend to walk with you, if I may," she said.

"You won't enjoy it a bit. It is all that I can do to prevent myself
from snapping my own nose off," said Denis.

"Oh, that does not matter a bit. You couldn't make me angry if you
tried. Will you come with us, Kathleen?"

"I am afraid I can't leave Mrs. Quirk. But I will meet you in town, and
we will have lunch together," said Kathleen.

"Come with us," said Denis Quirk, almost despairingly. "The mother will
get on for once without you."

"I flatter myself that Mrs. Quirk will be quite miserable without me,"
she answered, laughingly. "I have a very good opinion of myself, Mr.
Quirk; I feel that I am necessary to one person in the world."

But she watched them as they walked down the avenue, wondering what they
were laughing about, perhaps a little bit annoyed at Sylvia Jackson's
presumption in forcing herself on Denis Quirk.

Sylvia Jackson was very adaptable, where men were concerned. She rarely
found any great difficulty in securing the attention of a man, old or
young, when she desired so to do. It was her way to find out where a
man's special vanity lay. If he were so singular as to have no
particular vanity, she would discover wherein his interests were centred
and attack him through that avenue. So skilful was she, so insinuating
in her flattery and in her questions, that she rarely failed to secure
admiration as a woman of singular penetration. She had the gift of being
able to listen with apparent interest to a conversation, throwing in the
necessary question here and there. When it was necessary to talk, she
could change her tactics and make conversation for the shy, reserved
man.

They had not gone far to-day before Denis Quirk said to himself: "This
is a clever woman." He was not far wrong in this appreciation, for
Sylvia Jackson was undoubtedly clever. Before they had come to Grey Town
the two were laughing and joking with one another as though they had
known each other for years. For a woman to arrive at such intimate
relations with Denis Quirk in a short time was a triumph.

Desmond O'Connor was awaiting Sylvia outside "The Lounge," as the big
emporium in Gressley St. was called. Seeing her approach with Denis
Quirk, his brows contracted slightly, but he met them smilingly.

"You call t