with an uneasy glance around. And Grant knew he was correct in his
suspicion as to who was goading and lashing her to hasten into
matrimony.

"Well--have you selected your--"

As Arkwright hesitated she supplied, "Victim." They laughed, she
less enthusiastically than he. "Though," she added, "I assure you,
I'll make him happy. It takes intelligence to make a man happy,
even if he wants the most unintelligent kind of happiness. And
you've just admitted I'm not stupid."

Arkwright was studying her. He had a sly instinct that there was a
reason deeper than their old and intimate friendship for her
reposing this extreme of confidence in him. No doubt she was not
without a vague hope that possibly this talk might set him to
thinking of her as a wife for himself. Well, why not? He ought to
marry, and he could afford it. Where would he find a more ladylike
person--or where one who was at the same time so attractive? He
studied, with a certain personal interest, her delicate face, her
figure, slim and gracefully curved, as her evening dress fully
revealed it. Yes, a charming, most ladylike figure. And the skin
of her face, of neck and shoulders, was beautifully white, and of
the texture suggesting that it will rub if too impetuously
caressed. Yes, a man would hesitate to kiss her unless he were
well shaved. At the very thought of kissing her Grant felt a
thrill and a glow she had never before roused in him. She had an
abundance of blue-black hair, and it and her slender black brows
and long lashes gave her hazel eyes a peculiar charm of mingled
passion and languor. She had a thin nose, well shaped, its