really as hard as bronze, she wondered, or was that suggestion of latent
power, of slumbering energy, as deceptive as the caressing glance he
bent upon her? The glance meant nothing she was aware--he would have
regarded her in much the same way had Perry been at her side, would have
shone quite as affectionately, perhaps, upon her mother. Yet, in spite
of her worldly knowledge, she felt herself yielding to it as to a
delicate flattery. Her eyes were still on him, and presently he caught
her gaze and held it by a look which, for all its fervour, had an edge
of biting irony. There was a meaning, a mystery in his regard, but his
words when at last they came sounded almost empty.

"Oh, that's well enough in its way," he said, "but as a safeguard
there's no virtue alive that can stand against a sense of humour. An
instinct for the ridiculous will keep any man from going to the devil."

She shot her defiant merriment into his face. "Has it kept you?"

"I?--Oh, I wasn't bound that way, you know--but why do you ask?"

For a breath she hesitated, then, remembering her mystification of an
instant ago, she felt a swift desire to punish him for something which
even to herself she could not express--for too sharp a prick of
unsatisfied curiosity, or was it for too intense a moment of
uncertainty?

"Oh, one hears, you know," she replied indifferently.

"One hears! And what is it that one hears?"

His voice was hard, almost angry, and she despised herself because the