ing in that afternoon. You and I have hit it off so
well, and here I'm confiding in you! It was a regular luck sign, I
think."

Kate's voice, when she spoke, fell to its deeper, richer tones.

"And I'm sure I feel flattered--any girl would. I really thank
you--you don't know how much."

"And you'll help me, won't you?"

"With my advice--yes."

"Well, that's all I want. If I win this game, I want to win it
square.

"Say, you are sure the goods. You're as pretty--it wouldn't be natural
for a man to say you're as pretty as she is, but a man can just look
at you and wonder--" and here he dropped one of his hands gently upon
hers. She let it rest there a moment before she drew away.

"We'd better be going back," she said. "They'll think it's I and not
Eleanor, if we stay so long."

As they started, he stooped to get her another drink. Standing above
him, her hand lifted toward her student beri, she bent her gaze on his
back. A peculiar look it was, as though an effort against pain. It
faded into an expression like hunger.

CHAPTER VIII

It seemed afterward to Bertram Chester, reviewing the early events of
a life in which he was well pleased, that his real attack on things,
his virtual beginning, came with that house-party of the Masters's.
The victory of his smile on the staircase he followed up that evening
to a general conquest. For Masters, when dinner was over, brewed a hot
punch. They drank it about the driftwood fire, and even the severe
Marion Slater relaxed and made merry. The essence of the gods strips
self-control and delicacy first, so that the finer wit goes by without
tribute of a laugh and the wit of poked fingers--especially if it be
sauced by personality--rules at the board. After the punch had worked
sunshine in them, the poked finger of this young barbarian was more
compelling than the sallies of Masters or the mimicry of Harry Banks.

When the party dispersed at the Sausalito Ferry and scattered for a
workaday Monday, he found himself accepting invitations left and
right. Dr. French asked him to motor out to the Cliff House that very
night; Mrs. Masters wanted him to dinner; Harry Banks must have him
over to his ranch under Tamalpais. Kate Waddington, mounting the steps
to Banks's automobile, slipped him a farewell word.

"You were a success," she said. "That's the reward of naughty little
boys when they reform!"

"Well, I'd have liked to smash his face just the same--then."

"Yo