disregarding Fraser, broke in, harshly:

"Have you read this magazine?"

"Not entirely. It came in the last mail."

"I'd like to take one page out of it," he said. "May I?"

"Why, certainly," she replied. "You may have the whole thing if you like."
He produced a knife, and with one quick stroke cut a single leaf out of
the magazine, which he folded and thrust into the breast of his coat.

"Thank you," he muttered; then fell to staring ahead of him, again
heedless of his surroundings. This abrupt relapse into his former state of
sullen and defiant silence tantalized the girl to the verge of anger,
especially now that she had seen something of his true self. She was
painfully conscious of a sense of betrayal at having yielded so easily to
his pleasant mood, only to be shut out on an instant's whim, while a
girlish curiosity to know the cause of the change overpowered her. He
offered no explanation, however, and took no further part in the
conversation until, noting the lateness of the hour, he rose and thanked
her for her hospitality in the same deadly indifferent manner.

"The music was a great treat," he said, looking beyond her and holding
aloof--"a very great treat. I enjoyed it immensely. Good-night."

Cherry Malotte had experienced a new sensation, and she didn't like it.
She vowed angrily that she disliked men who looked past her; indeed, she
could not recall any other who had ever done so. Her chief concern had
always been to check their ardor. She resolved viciously that before she