int of tears myself because my plan had gone
wrong. But that would have seemed natural enough to them."

He frowned at the name Baldwin, as if he were trying to recover a memory.
Now he felt vaguely in his trousers pocket and pulled out the crumpled
visiting card that had her note scribbled on the back of it. "You haven't
told me yet what happened," he said.

"Oh, I was afraid you wouldn't remember." She looked away from him as she
said it and a little unwonted color crept into her cheeks.

"Afraid?" he questioned.

"I wanted you to understand," she said, "and now I'll have to tell you
again. It was because I was trying so hard not to meddle that I did. I
sent that little note to you just to get a chance to tell you not to mind
my seeing you there with those others--not to let it spoil your party. I
couldn't bear to have you come to me to-day, or to-morrow or whenever it
was, feeling--well, ashamed you know, and explanatory. That's what I
tried to tell you last night but couldn't make you understand. So I did,
really, just exactly what I was meaning not to. Of course, I loved you
for coming away and I love having you here like this, all to myself. But
I didn't mean to--to spoil things for you."

He stared at her a moment in blank inapprehension; then a deep blush came
burning into his face. "You didn't understand," he said thickly. "You
didn't know what those girls were."

"Oh, Rush!" she cried. "Of course I did. I knew exactly what they
were--better than you. I even knew who they were. They live not very far
from here."

He paled and his look was frightened. "How did you know that?" he
demanded. "How could you know a thing like that?"

"They've lived here in the Village for years," she said, summarizing
Baldy without quoting him as her authority. "One of them used to be an
illustrator--or something--before she went--over the edge. They're two of
our celebrities. One can't go about, unless he's stone blind, without
picking up things like that."

"You did know what she was, then," he persisted, doggedly pushing
through something it was almost impossible for him to say, "and yet,
knowing, you asked me to leave you alone and go back to her. You wanted
me to do that?"

"I didn't want you to!" she cried. "I hated it, of course. But
men--people--do things like that, and I could see how--natural it was
that you wanted to. And if you wanted to, I didn't think it fair that it
should be spoiled for you just because we