rom that, it is enough," Bedient answered.
"But why do you say I make people believe----?"

Mrs. Wordling considered. "I never quite understood about one part of
that typhoon story," she qualified. "You were carrying the Captain
across the deck, and a Chinese tried to knife you. You just mentioned
that the Chinese died."

"Yes," said Bedient, who disliked this part of the story, and had
shirred the narrative.

"But I wanted to hear more about it----"

"That was all. He died. There were only a few survivors."

Mrs. Wordling's head was high-held. She was sniffing the night, with
the air of a connoisseur. "Do you smell the mignonette, or is it Sweet
William? Something we had in the garden at home when I was little....
Are you afraid to go across in the park--with _me_?"

"Sailors are never afraid," he said, following her pointed finger to
the open gate.

They crossed the street laughingly. There had been no one at the Club
entrance.... They never determined what the fragrance was, though they
strolled for some time through the paths of the park, among the thick
low trees, and finally sat down by the fountain. The moonlight, cut
with foliage, was magic upon the water. Bedient was merry in heart. The
rising error which might shadow this hour was clear enough to him, but
he refused to reckon with it. He was interested, and a little troubled,
to perceive there was nothing in common in Mrs. Wordling's mind and
his. They spoke a different language. He was sorry, for he knew she
could think hard and suddenly, if he had the power to say the exact
thing. And that which he might have taken, and which her training had
designed her both to attract and exact, Bedient did not want. All her
sighs, soft tones, suddennesses and confidences fell wide; and yet, to
Mrs. Wordling, he was too challenging and mysterious for her to be
bored an instant. Their talk throughout was trifling and ineffectual,
as it had begun. Mrs. Wordling was not Bedient's type. No woman could
have dethroned Beth Truba this hour. Bedient was not sorry (nothing he
had said seemed to animate) when Mrs. Wordling arose, and led the way
to the gate... which had been locked meanwhile.

Mrs. Wordling was inclined to cry a little. "One couldn't possibly
climb the fence!" she moaned.

"They have keys at the Club, haven't they?" Bedient asked.

"Yes. All the houses and establishments on the park front have keys.
It's private--that far.... I should have known it woul