shining with the heat and a beer lunch, murmured admiring comments upon
the balloonist's figure. "Beautiful legs, she has!"

"That's so," Hedger whispered. "Not many girls would look well in that
position." Then, for some reason, he blushed a slow, dark, painful
crimson.

The balloon descended slowly, a little way from the tent, and the
red-faced man in the linen suit caught Molly Welch before her feet
touched the ground, and pulled her to one side. The band struck up "Blue
Bell" by way of welcome, and one of the sweaty pages ran forward and
presented the balloonist with a large bouquet of artificial flowers. She
smiled and thanked him, and ran back across the sand to the tent.

"Can't we go inside and see her?" Eden asked. "You can explain to the
door man. I want to meet her." Edging forward, she herself addressed the
man in the linen suit and slipped something from her purse into his hand.

They found Molly seated before a trunk that had a mirror in the lid and a
"make-up" outfit spread upon the tray. She was wiping the cold cream and
powder from her neck with a discarded chemise.

"Hello, Don," she said cordially. "Brought a friend?"

Eden liked her. She had an easy, friendly manner, and there was something
boyish and devil-may-care about her.

"Yes, it's fun. I'm mad about it," she said in reply to Eden's questions.
"I always want to let go, when I come down on the bar. You don't feel
your weight at all, as you would on a stationary trapeze."