She shook her head helplessly. "No, and I told him Margaret was coming.
That is her ring now."

Mr. Culpeper looked at Mary Byrd. "I am sure that Margaret would clothe
herself more discreetly," he remarked in a voice which sounded husky
because he tried to make it facetious. "When I was a young man it was
the fashion to compare women to flowers, and in these unromantic days I
should call Margaret our last violet--"

A peal of laughter fell from the bright red lips of Mary Byrd. "It
sounds as depressing as the last rose of summer," she cried, "and it's
just as certain to be left on the stem--" Then she broke off, still
pulsing with merriment, for the door opened slowly, and the last violet
entered the room.




CHAPTER V

MARGARET


As he inserted his latch-key in the old-fashioned lock, Stephen
remembered that his mother had instructed him not to be late because
Margaret Blair was coming to spend the evening. "It takes you so long to
change that I believe you begin to dream as soon as you go to your
room," she had added; and while he made his way hurriedly and softly up
the stairs, he wondered how he could have so completely forgotten the