to enlighten her
if he cared to.

Again and again Hamil, wandering in circles, looked across the
wilderness of women's hats at Shiela Cardross, but a dozen men
surrounded her, and among them he noticed the graceful figure of
Malcourt directly in front of her, blocking any signal he might have
given.

Somebody was saying something about Mrs. Ascott. He recollected that he
hadn't met her; so he found somebody to present him.

"And _you_ are the man?" exclaimed Mrs. Ascott softly, considering him
with her head on one side. "Shiela Cardross wrote to me in New York
about you, but I've wanted to inspect you for my own information."

"Are you doing it now?" he asked, amused.

"It's done! Do you imagine you are complex? I've heard various tales
about you from three sources, to-day; from an old friend, Louis
Malcourt--from another, Virginia Suydam--and steadily during the last
month--including to-day--from Shiela Cardross. But I couldn't find a
true verdict until the accused appeared personally before me. Tell me,
Mr. Hamil, do you plead guilty to being as amiable as the somewhat
contradictory evidence indicates?"

"Parole me in custody of this court and let me convince your Honor,"
said Hamil, looking into the captivatingly cool and humourous face
upturned to his.

Mrs. Ascott was small, and finely moulded; something of the miniature
grande dame in porcelain. The poise of her head, the lifted chin, every
detail in the polished and delicately tinted surface reflected cool
experience of the world and of men. Yet the eyes were young, and there
was no hardness in them, and the mouth seemed curiously unfashioned for
worldly badinage--a very wistful, full-lipped mouth that must have been
disciplined in some sad school to lose its cheerfulness in repose.

"I am wondering," she said, "why Mr. Portlaw does not come and talk to
me. We are neighbors in the country, you know; I live at Pride's Fall. I
don't think it's particularly civil of him to avoid me."

"I can't imagine anybody, including Portlaw, avoiding you," he said.

"We were such good friends--I don't know--he behaved very badly to me
last autumn."

They chatted together for a moment or two in the same inconsequential
vein, then, other people being presented, she nodded an amiable
dismissal; and, as he stepped aside, held out her hand.

"There are a lot of things I'd like to ask you some day; one is about a
park for me at Pride's Fall--oh, the tiniest sort of a pa