ide, had appeared in the
door of the smoking-room, Lorimer had been more flushed, more garrulous
than was his wont, more inclined to the French doctrine of equality and
fraternity. In some moods, he would not have tolerated the arm of Lloyd
Avalons which now rested across the back of his chair.

The scene lasted only for an instant. Thayer went into the room,
accepted a dozen hot hands whose owners were trying rather incoherently
to congratulate him upon his success, waved aside the wine offered him,
and, with a word of excuse, bent down and spoke quietly to Lorimer.

"Beg pardon, Mr. Avalons," he said shortly; "but I have a message for
Mr. Lorimer. He is needed on business, and I shall have to take him
away. Please give my good-night to Mrs. Avalons. My cab is waiting, and
I can set Lorimer down at his club." And, with a bow, he had left the
room, with Lorimer sullenly following at his heels.

In Lorimer's room, Thayer broke the silence which had lasted during
their drive along the brilliantly-lighted Avenue. He had watched his
companion's face keenly and with an understanding born of similar
scenes, and he knew it would not be well to use many words. However, as
he was leaving Lorimer, he turned back.

"This is once too often, Lorimer," he said briefly. "You've somebody
besides yourself to think of now. If I were in your place, I would have
important business call me to Washington, in the morning, and I would
stay down there for a few days. It will give you time to think things
over, and find out just where you stand."

CHAPTER SIX

Miss Gannion nestled luxuriously back into the depths of her easy chair.

"Do you know, Mr. Thayer, it is a very wonderful experience, this having
a species of court musician?"

He laughed the silent laugh she liked so well. It came from between
close-shut teeth; but it lighted his whole face.

"As wonderful as it is to have a good listener who always understands
and rarely praises?" he asked.

Under her thin, middle-aged skin, the flush rose to her cheeks, turning
them to the dainty likeness of youth.

"You say very pleasant things."

"True ones. If this keeps on, I shall begin using you as critic for all
my new songs."

"Like the fabled dog? I wish you would. But, truly, I am not joking. You
are quite spoiling me for my usual diet of recitals. Do you realize
that, for the past two months, you have sung to me on an average of two
hours a week?"

Thayer smiled con