wollen lines.

"Look who's here," shouted a gay, vibrant voice. "If it isn't old Dare
Lane!"

That voice drew Lane's fixed gaze, and he saw a group in the far
corner of the room. One man was standing, another was sitting beside a
lounge, upon which lay a young woman amid a pile of pillows. She rose
lazily, and as she slid off the lounge Lane saw her skirt come down
and cover her bare knees. Her red hair, bobbed and curly, marked her
for recognition. It was Helen. But Lane doubted if he would have at
once recognized any other feature. The handsome insolence of her face
was belied by a singularly eager and curious expression. Her eyes,
almost green in line, swept Lane up and down, and came back to his
face, while she extended her hands in greeting.

"Helen, how are you?" said Lane, with a cool intent mastery of
himself, bowing over her hands. "Surprised to see me?"

"Well, I'll say so! Daren, you've changed," she replied, and the
latter part of her speech flashed swiftly.

"Rather," he said, laconically. "What would you expect? So have you
changed."

There came a moment's pause. Helen was not embarrassed or agitated,
but something about Lane or the situation apparently made her slow or
stiff.

"Daren, you--of course you remember Hardy Mackay and Dick Swann," she
said.

Lane turned to greet one-time schoolmates and rivals of his. Mackay
was tall, homely, with a face that lacked force, light blue eyes and
thick sandy hair, brushed high. Swann was slight, elegant, faultlessly
groomed and he had a dark, sallow face, heavy lips, heavy eyelids,
eyes rather prominent and of a wine-dark hue. To Lane he did not have
a clean, virile look.

In their greetings Lane sensed some indefinable quality of surprise or
suspense. Swann rather awkwardly put out his hand, but Lane ignored
it. The blood stained Swann's sallow face and he drew himself up.

"And Daren, here are other friends of mine," said Helen, and she
turned him round. "Bessy, this is Daren Lane.... Miss Bessy Bell." As
Lane acknowledged the introduction he felt that he was looking at the
prettiest girl he had ever seen--the girl whose violet eyes had met
his when he entered the room.

"Mr. Daren Lane, I'm very happy to meet some one from 'over there,'"
she said, with the ease and self-possession of a woman of the world.
But when she smiled a beautiful, wonderful light seemed to shine from
eyes and face and lips--a smile of youth.

Helen introduced her companio