herself bravely that she
was awfully fond of him, and that it was silly, because he never would
amount to anything. But she had a little argument of her own, for such
occasions, which said that being really fond of any one meant knowing
all about them and liking them anyhow.

She stopped the car at the Hayden house, and carried her note to the
door. When she went in, however, she was instantly uncomfortable. The
place reeked with smoke, and undeniably there was dancing going on
somewhere. A phonograph was scraping noisily. Delight's small nose
lifted a little. What a deadly place! Coming in from the fresh outdoors,
the noise and smoke and bar-room reek stifled her.

Then a door opened, and Marion Hayden was drawing her into a room.

"How providential, Delight!" she said. "You'll take my hand, won't you?
It's Graham's dummy, and we want to dance."

The two connecting rooms were full of people, and the air was heavy.
Through the haze she saw Graham, and nodded to him, but with a little
sinking of the heart. She was aware, however, that he was looking at her
with a curious intentness and a certain expectancy. Maybe he only hoped
she would let him dance with Toots.

"No, thanks," she said. "Sorry."

"Why not, Delight? Just a hand, anyhow."

"Three good reasons: I don't play cards on Sunday; I don't ever play for
money; and I'm stifling for breath already in this air."

She was, indeed, a little breathless.

There was, had she only seen it, relief in Graham's face. She did not
belong there, he felt. Delight was--well, she was different. He had
not been thinking of her before she came in; he forgot her promptly the
moment she went out. But she had given him, for an instant, a breath
of the fresh out-doors, and quietness and--perhaps something clean and
fine.

There was an insistent clamor that she stay, and Tommy Hale even got
down on his knees and made a quite impassioned appeal. But Delight's
chin was very high, although she smiled.

"You are all very nice," she said. "But I'm sure I'd bore you in a
minute, and I'm certain you'd bore me. Besides, I think you're quite
likely to be raided."

Which met with great applause.

But there was nothing of Delight of the high head when she got out of
her car and crept up the rectory steps. How could she even have cared?
How could she? That was his life, those were the people he chose to play
with. She had a sense of loss, rather than injury.

The rector, tapping at h