ey rejoined the ladies on the piazza, a little later, Mattison
had gone.

After a while, the others went off in their motors, leaving Croyden
alone with Miss Cavendish. Hungerford had offered to drop him at the
Club, but he had declined. He would enjoy himself a little
longer--would give himself the satisfaction of another hour with her,
before he passed into outer darkness.

He had gone along in his easy, bachelor way, without a serious thought
for any woman, until six months ago. Then, Elaine Cavendish came home,
after three years spent in out-of-the-way corners of the globe, and,
straightway, bound him to her chariot wheels.

At least, so the women said--who make it their particular business to
observe--and they never make mistakes. They can tell when one is
preparing to fall in love, long before he knows himself. Indeed, there
have been many men drawn into matrimony, against their own express
inclination, merely by the accumulation of initiative engendered by
impertinent meddlers. They want none of it, they even fight desperately
against it, but, in the end, they succumb.

And Geoffrey Croyden would have eventually succumbed, of his own
desires, however, had Elaine Cavendish been less wealthy, and had his
affairs been more at ease. Now, he thanked high Heaven he had not
offered himself. She might have accepted him; and think of all the
heart-burnings and pain that would now ensue, before he went out of her
life!

"What were you men doing to Montecute Mattison?" she asked presently.
"He appeared perfectly furious when he came out, and he went off
without a word to anyone--even Charlotte Brundage was ignored."

"He and Colloden had a little difficulty--and Mattison left us,"
Croyden answered. "Didn't he stop to say good-night?"

She shook her head. "He called something as he drove off--but I think
he was swearing at his man."

"He needed something to swear at, I fancy!" Croyden laughed.

"What did Roderick do?" she asked.

"Took him by the collar and shook him--and told him either to go home
or be quiet."

"And he went home--I see."

"Yes--when he had recovered himself sufficiently. I thought, at first,
his anger was going to choke him."

"Imagine big, good-natured Roderick stirred sufficiently to lay hands
on any one!" she laughed.

"But imagine him _when_ stirred," he said.

"I hadn't thought of him in that way," she said, slowly--"Ough!" with a
little shiver, "it must have been terrifying--what