severely at him, and trust that he might conceive the intention which she
could not express. She rebelled against the convention and against her
own weakness, which would not let her boldly interfere in what she
believed a wrong; she had defied society, in the mass, but here, with
this man, whom as an atom of the mass she would have despised, she was
powerless.

"Have you ever seen him?" Libby asked, perhaps clinging to Maynard
because he was a topic of conversation in default of which there might be
nothing to say.

"No," answered Grace.

"He 's funny. He's got lots of that Western humor, and he tells a story
better than any man I ever saw. There was one story of his"--

"I have no sense of humor," interrupted Grace impatiently. "Mr. Libby,"
she broke out, "I 'm sorry that you've asked Mrs. Maynard to take a sail
with you. The sea air"--she reddened with the shame of not being able to
proceed without this wretched subterfuge--"won't do her any good."

"Then," said the young man, "you must n't let her go."

"I don't choose to forbid her," Grace began.

"I beg your pardon," he broke in. "I'll be back in a moment."

He turned, and ran to the edge of the cliff, over which he vanished, and
he did not reappear till Mrs. Maynard had rejoined Grace on the piazza.