later."

"I'm too lazy even to take off my boots and habit. Where's that volume
of Mendez you thought fit to hide from me, you wretch?"

"Why on earth did you buy it?"

"I bought it because Rosalie Dysart says Mendez is a great modern master
of prose----"

"And Rosalie is a great modern mistress of pose. Don't read Mendez."

"Isn't it necessary for a girl to read----"

"No, it isn't!"

"I don't want to be ignorant. Besides, I'm--curious to know----"

"Be decently curious, dearest. There's a danger mark; don't cross it."

"I don't wish to."

She stretched out her arms, crop in hand, doubled them back, and head
tipped on one side, yawned shamelessly at her own laziness.

"Scott is becoming very restless," she said.

"About going away?"

"Yes. I really do think, Kathleen, that we ought to have some
respectable country place to go to. It would be nice for Scott and the
servants and the horses; and you and I need not stay there if it bores
us----"

"Is he still thinking of that Roya-Neh place? It's horridly expensive to
keep up. Oh, I knew quite well that Scott would bully you into
consenting----"

"Roya-Neh seems to suit us both," admitted the girl indifferently. "The
shooting and fishing naturally attract Scott; they say it's secluded
enough for you and me to recuperate in; and if we ever want any guests,
it's big enough to entertain dozens in.... I really don't care one way
or the other; you know I never was very crazy about the country--and
poison ivy, and mosquitoes and oil-smelling roads, and hot nights, and
the perfume of fertilisers----"

"You poor child!" laughed Kathleen; "you don't know anything about the
country except where you've been on Long Island in the immediate
vicinity of your grandfather's horrid old place."

"Is it any more agreeable up there near Canada?"

"Roya-Neh is very lovely--of course--but--it's certainly not a wise
investment, dear."

"Well, if Scott and I buy it, we'd never wish to sell it----"

"Suppose you were obliged to?"

Geraldine's velvet eyes widened lazily:

"Obliged to? Oh--yes--you mean if we went to smash."

Then her gaze became remote as she stood slowly tapping her gloved palm
with her riding-crop.

"I think I'll dress," she said absently.

"Good-bye, then," nodded Kathleen.

"Good-bye," said the girl, turning lightly away across the hall.
Kathleen's eyes followed the slender retreating figure, so slimly
compact in its buoyancy. There was alway