he
did--but--" and there his informant paused, dubious. Other callers came
in and it began to rain--a sudden, drenching shower, and the little
stranger from the far West saw plainly enough that her hostesses, though
presenting their friends after our cheery American fashion, were unable
to show her further attention, and the newly presented--almost all women,
said "so very pleased" but failed to look it, or otherwise to manifest
their pleasure. She _couldn't_ go in the rain. The butler had 'phoned for
a cab. She wouldn't sit there alone and neglected. She deliberately
signaled Mr. Prime. "The ladies are all busy," she said, with a
charmingly appealing smile, "but I know you can tell me. I have to dress
for dinner after I get home, and must be at One Hundred and Tenth Street
at 7:30. How long will it take a carriage to drive me there? Oh, is that
your society pin? Why, are _you_ still in college? Why, I thought----"

That cab was twenty-five minutes coming, and when it came Mr. Prime went
with it and her, whom he had not left an instant from the moment of her
question. Moreover, he discovered she was nervous about taking that
carriage drive all alone away up to One Hundred and Tenth Street, yet
what other way could a girl go in dinner dress. He left her at her door
with a reluctantly given permission to return in an hour and escort her
to the distant home of her friends and entertainers. He drove to the
Waldorf and had a light dinner with a half pint of Hock, devoured her
with his eyes as they drove rapidly northward, went to a Harlem theater
while she dined and forgot him, and was at the carriage door when she
came forth to be driven home. Seven hours or less "had done the
business," so far as Gouverneur Prime was concerned.

It was the boy's first wild infatuation--as mad, unreasoning, absurd, yet
intense as was ever that of Arthur Pendennis for the lovely Fotheringay.
Margaret Garrison had never seen or known the like of it. She had
fascinated others for a time, had kindled love, passion and temporary
devotion, but this--this was worship, and it was something so sweet to
her jaded senses, something so rich and spontaneous that she gave herself
up for a day or two to the delight of studying it. Here was a glorious
young athlete whose eyes followed her every move and gesture, who hung
about her in utter captivation, whose voice trembled and whose eyes
implored, yet whose strong, brown, shapely hand never dared so much a