Shirley shook his head, not overlooking the slight
break which indicated that his host was a foreigner, despite the quick
change. "I have been to busy wasting time to collect anything but
fleeting memories. Too much polo, swimming, yachting, golfing--I have
fallen into evil ways. I think your example may reform me. You must dine
with me at my club some day, and give me some hints about making such
wonderful purchases."

"I know the most wonderful antique shop," Warren began, and just then
was interrupted by Shine Taylor and a dizzy blonde person with whom he
maxixed through the Hindu draperies, each deftly balancing a champagne
glass.

"Here, Reg, you neglect your other guests. Come on in!" Shine's
companion held out a wine glass to Warren, but her eyes were fixed in a
fascinated stare upon Montague Shirley.

"Why, what are you doing here?"

It was little Dolly Marion, Van Cleft's companion on the fatal
automobile ride. She trembled: the glass fell to the floor with a tinkly
crash. Shirley smiled indulgently. Taylor and Warren exchanged looks,
but Monty knew that they must by this time be aware of his command to
the girl to abstain from gay associations.

"You couldn't resist the call of the wild, could you, Miss Dolly?"

The girl sheepishly giggled, and danced out of the room, to sink into a
chair, wondering what this visitation meant. Another masculine butterfly
pressed more champagne upon her, and in a few moments she had forgotten
to worry about anything more important than the laws of gravity. Warren
had been rudely dragged away from his intellectual kinship with his
guest. His manner changed, almost indefinably, but Shirley understood.
He looked at Helene, a little bundle of sleepy sweetness in the big
chair.

"Well, Miss! Where did you go when I left you on my call of condolence
to Howard Van Cleft? He leaves town to-night for a trip on his yacht,
and it was my last chance to say good-bye."

"Where is he going?" was Warren's lapsus linguae, at this bit of news.

"Down to the Gulf, I believe. Do you know him, Warren? Nice chap. Too
bad about his father's sudden death from heart failure, wasn't it? He
told me they were putting in supplies for a two months' cruise and would
not be able to sail before three in the morning."

"I don't know Van Cleft," was Warren's guarded reply. "Of course, I read
of his sad loss. But he is so rich now that he can wipe out his grief
with a change of scene and part of the i