said slowly.

As if with a physical effort, she raised her eyes to his.

"Perhaps not," she assented; "but I can think of nothing worse."

It took Thayer two weeks to gather together his courage to see her
again. He too had been shaken by the events of the evening. His Slav
blood, kindled by the Dvorak dance, fired by his anger for Arlt, had
blazed up into a fury of scorn and hatred against the man who would so
allow his own weakness to stab another's strength. Lorimer, in Bobby
Dane's cab and under the lash of Bobby's energetic tongue, was out of
Thayer's way; but, as Thayer stood looking down at the face, whiter than
the fluffy white fur of her cloak, he had felt a momentary longing to
take Beatrix into his arms and, holding her there, to protect her from
Lorimer and from the danger that was threatening her whole happiness.
The moment passed and with it the longing; but, unknown to himself, it
had done its work. It had broken out the beginning of a new channel; it
had prepared the way for a new trend of thought.

Bobby Dane told him what had actually passed between himself and Lorimer
on the way home, what had probably occurred, the next day, between
Lorimer and Beatrix. Thayer waited before calling until he hoped the
memory of what had passed was so remote that neither he nor Beatrix
would think of it again. Nevertheless, though Beatrix was surrounded by
callers and upon her guard, the eyes of both drooped before the sudden
consciousness of having faced a crisis side by side.

According to their annual custom, the Danes went to their cottage at
Monomoy, the first of July, and Lorimer took up his quarters at the
hotel, less than a mile away. Two weeks later, Thayer and Arlt joined
him there. Lorimer had been urgent for Thayer's coming, and Thayer, upon
thinking the matter over, could see no valid reason for refusal. Miss
Gannion was on the way to Alaska, that summer, and, next to her, the
Danes were the closest friends he had made during his first season in
New York. It was only natural that he should arrange his plans in order
to be near them. Moreover, the idle life on the island sounded
attractive, and he was fully aware of the fact that his constant
companionship would be a strong hold upon Lorimer. All in all, he
decided to go.

He took Arlt with him, on the plea of requiring an accompanist for the
new songs he was studying. The boy needed the change. The stress of New
York life was wearing upon him; the c