as forever sealed by time. So in the midst of a world at its
spring, a budding world, a world of young mating, a gay world going out
on its vast yearly voyage to hunt new life in new joy, a quest for ever
new yet old as God's first smile on a world unborn, this woman sat in a
drab and dreary desolation. Even her spite withered as she sat playing
with her tall glass. And as spite chilled, her loneliness grew.

She knew better than any one else in Harvey--better even than the
Nesbits--what Kenyon Adams really promised in achievement and fame. They
knew that he had some European recognition. Margaret in Europe had been
amazed to see how far he was going. In New York and Boston, she knew
what it meant to have her son's music on the best concert programs. Her
realization of her loss increased her loneliness. But regret did not
produce remorse. She was always and finally glad that the door was
inexorably sealed upon her secret. She saw only her husband angered by
her son's association with her husband's daughter, and when malice spent
itself, she was weary and lonely and out of humor, and longed to retire
to her fortification.

After Captain Morton had bowed himself away from Margaret Van Dorn, he
stood at the other end of the veranda looking down toward the lake. The
carpenters were quitting work for the day on the new bathing pavilion
and he saw the tall figure of Grant Adams in the group. He hurried down
the steps near by, and came bustling over to Grant.

"Just the man I want to see! I saw Jap chasing around the golf course
with Ruthie and invited him, but he said your pa wasn't very spry and
mightn't be uptown to-morrow, so you just tell him for me that you and
he are to come to my party here next Tuesday night--surprise party for
the girls--going to break something to them they don't know anything
about--what say? Tell your pa that his old army friend is going to send
his car--my new car--great, big, busting gray battleship for your
pa--makes Tom's car look like an ash cart. Don't let your pa refuse. I
want to bring you all up here to the party in that car in style--you and
Amos and Jap and Kenyon! eh? Say, Grant--tell me--" he wagged his head
at Kenyon and Lila still loitering by the tree. "What's Kenyon's idea in
loafing around so much here in Harvey? He's old enough to go to work.
What say?" Grant tried to get it to the Captain that Kenyon's real job
in the world was composing music, and that sometimes he tired of c