s youth--and of Mary's. Unfortunately,
I was out when he called again. But I have seen Mr. Osborne twice.
These are his flowers. He also sent me several books."

"What were they?" growled Clavering. He remembered with dismay that he
hadn't even sent her the usual tribute of flowers. There had been no
place in his mind for the small amenities.

"A verboten romance called 'Jurgen.' Why verboten? Because it is too
good for the American public? 'Main Street.' For me, it might as well
have been written in Greek. 'The Domesday Book.' A great story. 'Seed
of the Sun.' To enlighten me on the 'Japanese Question.' 'Cytherea.'
Wonderful English. Why is it not also verboten?"

"Even censors must sleep. Is that all he sent you?"

"I am waiting for the chocolates--but possibly those are sent only by the
very young men to the very young girls."

He glowered at his plate. "Do you like chocolates? I'll send some
tomorrow. I've been very remiss, I'm afraid, but I've lost the habit."

"I detest chocolates."

Squabs and green peas displaced the entree. The burgundy was admirable.

Once more he was permitted to gaze at her eyelashes. He plunged
desperately. "The name Marie doesn't suit you. If ever I know you well
enough I shall call you Mary. It suits your vast repose. That is why
ordinary Marys are nicknamed 'Mamie' or 'Mame.'"

"I was christened Mary." She raised her eyes. They were no longer wise
and unfathomable. They looked as young as his own. Probably younger, he
reflected. She looked appealing and girlish. Once more he longed to
protect her.

"Do you want to call me Mary?" she asked, smiling.

"I hardly know whether I do or not. . . . There's something else I
should tell you. I swore I'd never ask you any more questions--but
I--well, Dinwiddie kept on the scent until he was laid up. One of the
Thornhills verified your story in so far as he remembered that a cousin
had settled in Virginia and then moved on to Paris. There his
information stopped. . . . But . . . Dinwiddie met a Countess Loyos at
dinner."

"Countess Loyos?"

"Yes--know her?"

"Mathilde Loyos? She is one of my oldest friends."

"No doubt you'd like to see her. I can get her address for you."

"There is nothing I want less than to see her. Nor any one else from
Austria--at present."

"I think this could not have been your friend. She emphatically said--I
am afraid of being horribly rude----"

"Ah!" For th