been asleep hours ago." He went over to the door.

"I'm not a kid--I'm not" she burst out.

He was too tired to be surprised. He had not forgotten how she had
hidden behind her youth. He couldn't understand her mood. "I must
get to bed," he said, "if you don't mind. I must be up pretty early.
Run along, Joany."

He couldn't have hurt her more awfully whatever he had said. To be
treated like a naughty girl! But it served her right, and she knew
it. Her plea had come back like a boomerang.

"Well, have a good time," she said, with her chin high. "I shall see
you again some day, I suppose," and she went out.

It was no use. She had lost him--she had lost him, just as she had
discovered that she wanted him. There was a girl with a white face
and red lips and hair that came out of a bottle. Martin watched her
go and shut the door, and stood with his hands over his face.




VIII


Mr. and Mrs. George Harley had made an appointment to meet at half-
past eleven sharp on the doorstep of the little house in Sixty-
seventh Street. Business had interrupted their honeymoon and brought