ild pagan grace, she withdrew into her memory and found there all
that went on. She herself was singing; she stood free and beautiful
before them all; she met Oliver's eyes.

Frances sang again and again. Oliver led the applause, and Myra sat
on, smiling, her steady gaze turned inward. When it was over, she
took Frances by the hand, and it was as if she were thanking herself
and bidding that self adieu.

Later in the evening David Cannon came up to her and gruffly
suggested that she sing.

She shook her head.

"No, my good friend."

"Why not?" He stood over her, ugly, masterful.

Her smile softened to a sweet, sad flutter of lip.

"You know why."

"Nonsense!"

"You can't bully me any more, David," she told him gently. "That's
the tragic part of it," she added under her breath. She liked David,
but she wished he would go. She wished they would all go. It must be
very late.

It was still later, however, before the last guest departed. That
last guest was Frances Maury, escorted by a glum David. Oliver had
kept her on.

"Myra and I always get to bed so early that it's a relief to stay up
for once," he had said.

"Of course it's much more sensible to go to bed early." Miss Maury's
voice did not sound as if sensible things appealed to her.

"Oliver has to be at his office so early in the morning," Myra put
in almost as an apology.

"She sees to that," came from Oliver, with a humorous inflection.

Frances Maury playfully shuddered.

"Wives have too many duties for me. I shall never marry."

"Don't," said Oliver, and realized his blunder. He glanced quickly
at Myra, and was relieved to observe that she did not seem troubled.

It was David, at last, who insisted on going home. Frances obeyed
him with a laughing apology.

"You've given me such a good time. I forgot the hour. May I come
again?"

"Indeed you must," Myra answered hospitably.

She would not leave, however, until they had promised to come to her
concert. She would send them tickets. And they must have tea with
her soon. Would they chaperon her once in a while? Oliver eagerly
promised to be at her beck and call. He followed her out into the
hall, unmindful of David's vile temper.

Myra turned slowly back into the room, noting with jaded eyes the
empty beer-bottles, crusts of sandwiches, ashes on the rugs, chairs
pulled crazily about. The place still resounded with chatter and song.
It no longer seemed her home.

Presently Oliver joine