And she slipped away, leaving Graham to his fate. He watched her,
watched the perfect knee-lift of her draperies as she crossed to Mrs.
Mason and set about arranging bridge quartets, while dimly he could
hear Terrence beginning:

"It is agreed that music was the basis of inspiration of all the arts
of the Greeks...."

Later, when the two sages were obliviously engrossed in a heated
battle as to whether Berlioz or Beethoven had exposited in their
compositions the deeper intellect, Graham managed his escape. Clearly,
his goal was to find his hostess again. But she had joined two of the
girls in the whispering, giggling seclusiveness of one of the big
chairs, and, most of the company being deep in bridge, Graham found
himself drifted into a group composed of Dick Forrest, Mr. Wombold,
Dar Hyal, and the correspondent of the _Breeders' Gazette_.

"I'm sorry you won't be able to run over with me," Dick was saying to
the correspondent. "It would mean only one more day. I'll take you
tomorrow."

"Sorry," was the reply. "But I must make Santa Rosa. Burbank has
promised me practically a whole morning, and you know what that means.
Yet I know the _Gazette_ would be glad for an account of the
experiment. Can't you outline it?--briefly, just briefly? Here's Mr.
Graham. It will interest him, I am sure."

"More water-works?" Graham queried.

"No; an asinine attempt to make good farmers out of hopelessly poor