tables to the foot of the stairs and with his hand grasping her arm
like a vice, guided her up to the place where ladies left their
wraps.

"We're going home," he said, "to have things out. I'll wait here."
Then he called a boy and told him to get his hat and coat and gave
him his check.

Five minutes later, in pulsating silence, both of them angry and
inarticulate, they stood in the street waiting for a taxi. The soft
air touched their hot faces with a refreshing finger. Hardly any one
who saw that slip of a girl and that square-shouldered boy with his
unlined face would have imagined that they could be anything but
brother and sister. The marriage of babies! Was there no single
apostle of common sense in all the country--a country so gloriously
free that it granted licenses to every foolishness without a qualm?

Palgrave was standing on the curb, scowling. His car moved up, and
the porter went forward to open the door. As quick as lightning,
Joan saw her chance to put Martin into his place and evade an
argument. Wasn't she out of that old country cage at last? Couldn't
she revel in free flight without being called to order and treated
like a school-girl, at last? What fun to use Palgrave to show Martin
her spirit!

She touched him on the arm and looked up at him with dancing eyes
and a teasing smile. "Not this time, Marty," she said, and was
across the sidewalk in a bound. "Quick," she said to Palgrave.
"Quick!" And he, catching the idea with something more than
amusement, sprang into the car after her, and away they went.