always a certain amount of curiosity, whether they found him attractive
or otherwise.

His humourous indifference to public opinions, bordering on effrontery,
was not entirely unattractive to women, but it always, sooner or later,
aroused their distrust.

The main trouble with Duane Mallett seemed to be his gaily cynical
willingness to respond to any advance, however slight, that any pretty
woman offered. This responsive partiality was disconcerting enough to
make him dreaded by ambitious mothers, and an object of uneasy interest
to their decorative offspring who were inclined to believe that a rescue
party of one might bring this derelict into port and render him
seaworthy for the voyage of life under their own particular command.

Besides, he was a painter. Women like them when they are carefully
washed and clothed.

* * * * *

As Duane Mallett strolled into the living-room, Geraldine felt again, as
she so often did, a slight sense of insecurity mingle with her liking
for the man, or what might have been liking if she could ever feel
absolute confidence in him. She had been, at times, very close to caring
a great deal for him, when now and again it flashed over her that there
must be in him something serious under his brilliant talent and the idle
perversity which mocked at it.

But now she recognised in his smile and manner everything that kept her
from ever caring to understand him--the old sense of insecurity in his