length, sallow skin, and bold dark eyes, at Dallas, blond,
growing bald and florid, and then at the Harbison boy, tall,
muscular, clear-eyed and sunburned, one would have taken Max at
first choice as the villain, with Dal next, Jim third, and the
Harbison boy not in the running.

It was just after dinner that the surprise was sprung on me. Mr.
Harbison came around to me gravely, and asked me if I felt able
to go up on the roof. On the roof, after last night! I had to
gather myself together; luckily, the others were pushing back
their chairs, showing Flannigan the liqueur glasses to take up,
and lighting cigars.

"I do not care to go," I said icily.

"The others are coming," he persisted, "and I--I could give you
an arm up the stairs."

"I believe you are good at that," I said, looking at him
steadily. "Max, will you help me to the roof?"

Mr. Harbison really turned rather white. Then he bowed
ceremoniously and left me.

Max got me a wrap, and every one except Mr. Harbison and Bella,
who was taking a mass of indigestables to Aunt Selina, went to
the roof.

"Where is Tom?" Anne asked, as we reached the foot of the stairs.
"Gone ahead to fix things," was the answer. But he was not there.