away. He suspected she was going to be "tragic." If he didn't look out,
there'd be a "scene."

"We can't put it off," she said. "I let you have your talk out with the
Lakes, but you'll have to talk with me now."

"We spent most of the time talking about you, anyway," he said
pleasantly. "They're both mad about you. Barry says you've got a fine
mind."

She laughed at that, a little raggedly. Whereupon Rodney looked hurt and
protested against this imputation of insincerity against his friend.

"When you know him better," he said, "you will see he couldn't say a
thing like that unless he meant it."

"Oh, he meant it, all right," said Rose. And she added incomprehensibly,
"It isn't his fault, of course. It's just the way the world's made."

She had been in good looks to-night, she knew; hurt, humiliated,
confronted with a crisis, she had rallied her powers just as she had
done at the Randolphs' dinner. She had been aware of the color in her
cheeks, the brightness in her eyes, the edge to her voice. Each of the
two men had responded to the effect she produced. Barry had talked with
her all the last part of the evening--brilliantly, eagerly, and had come
away saying she had a fine mind. Her husband had come across to her and
put his hand on her bare shoulder. And the two of them had responded to
an identical impulse, although they translated it so differently--one
over the long circuit, the other over the short.

Lacking the clue, Rodney, of course, didn't understand. The look in
Rose's eyes softened suddenly.

"Don't mind, dear;" she said. "I'm truly glad if they liked me. It will
make things a lot easier."

At that his eyes lighted up. "Do you seriously think any one could
resist you, you darling?" he said. "You were a perfect miracle to-night,
when they were here. But now, like this ..." He came over to her with
his arms out.

But she cried out "Don't!" and sprang away from him. "Please don't,
Roddy--not to-night! I can't stand it to have you touch me to-night!"

He stared at her, gave a shrug of exasperation, and then turned away.
"You _are_ angry about something then," he said. "I thought so when I
first came in. But I honestly don't know what it's about."

"I'm _not_ angry," she said as steadily as she could. She mustn't let it
go on like this. They were getting started all wrong somehow. "You
didn't want me to touch you, the night when I came to your office, when
you were working on that case. But it was