but," he paused, and added, "you know we are having a pretty strenuous
time down here."

There was a genuine ring to the first part of his reply. But the rest
of it trailed off into the old blase tone.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "I enjoyed last night so much."

"Did you?" came back eagerly.

Before he could add anything she asked, "I suppose you are going to see
Stella again this afternoon."

"Why--er--yes," he hesitated. "I think so."

"Where? At Vera's?" she asked, adopting a tone not of curiosity but of
chiding him for seeing Stella instead of herself.

The moment of hesitation, before he said that he didn't know, told her
the truth. It was as good as a plain, "Yes."

For a few moments they chatted. As she hung up the receiver after his
deferential goodbye, Constance knew that she had gained a new angle
from which to observe Warrington's character. He was intensely human
and he was "in wrong." Here was a mess, all around.

The day wore on, yet brought no indecision as to what she would do,
though it brought no solution as to how to do it. The inaction was
worse than anything else. The last quotations had come in over the
ticker, showing the Syndicate stocks still unchanged. She left her
brokers and sat for a few moments in the rotunda of the hotel,
considering. She could stand it no longer. Whatever happened, she would
run around to Charmant's. Some excuse would occur when she got there.

As Constance alighted from the private elevator, a delicate scent as of
attar of roses smote lightly on her, and there was, if anything, a
greater air of exotic warmth about the place. Everything, from the
electric bulbs buried deep in the clusters of amber artificial flowers
to the bright green leaves on the dainty trellises, the little
square-paned windows and white furniture, bespoke luxury. There was an
inviting "tone" to it all.

"I'm glad I've found you," began Constance to Stella, as though nothing
had happened. "There is something I'd like to say to you besides
thanking you most kindly for the good time last--"

"Is there anything I can do for you?" interrupted Madame Charmant in a
business like tone. "I am sure that Miss Larue invited you last night
because she thought you were lonely. She and Mr. Warrington, you know,
are old friends."

Charmant emphasized the remark to mean, "You trespassed on forbidden
ground, if you thought you could get him away."

Constance seemed not to notice the implication.

"Th