for to be an object of ridicule
was the greatest evil that could come to him. "You don't understand. I
want you to marry me."

"Insult, most certainly! What else do you call it for a man with two
little daughters, and divorced by his wife for his own unforgivable
fault, to ask any woman to marry him! Yes, I know, you see. Lavinia
Dorman is a friend of Mrs. Bell!"

"The devil!" muttered the man, still looking about uneasily, under the
gaze of her uncompromising accusation. In some way the directness of her
words made him feel uncomfortable for the moment, but he quickly
recovered, changed his tactics, and burying his hands in his pockets,
assumed his usually jaunty air, while half a smile, half a sneer, crossed
his face as he said lightly: "What a droll, Puritan spitfire we are,
aren't we? As if rearranged families were not a thing of daily happening.
Don't feel called upon to kick up a rumpus, it isn't necessary; besides,
take a tip from me, _your mother won't like it!_ If you are through with
that cup, I will take the things back," and nonchalantly shying the bits
of the broken plate into the bushes, he went toward the refreshment tent,
saying to his host, Mrs. Jenks-Smith, who was inquiring for Sylvia: "Yes,
she is yonder in the second arbour. I've taken her some tea, for she's
quite done up; that beastly overland trip home was too much for her in
the first hot weather."

Consequently the warm-hearted Lady of the Bluffs was naturally prepared
to find Sylvia sick and faint, and urged sending her home, where she
could slip in and get to bed unobserved, which was the one thing that the
girl most desired. Also this shrewd lady was wise enough to give no sign,
even though she drew her conclusions, when on turning to leave the arbour
she saw a bit of the broken plate lying on the ground at the opposite
side near where a point of the rustic work had torn a shred from Sylvia's
mull drapery as she had pulled herself away.

* * * * *

By the time that Sylvia had gained her room the warm twilight sky had
been transformed to a silver lake by the moon, but she neither enjoyed
its beauty nor heard the music that was beginning to come from the rose
garden above, as well as the tea room below stairs. She sat by the
window, deaf to all outside things, with only one thought in her mind;
she would gladly have buried the occurrence of the arbour, if it were
possible, but as it was, she must tell her m