Carrington on the walk.

"We have met before," she said, as he bowed over her hand. "I was your
original guide to Clarendon. Have you forgot?"

"Have I forgot?" said Croyden. "Do you think it possible?" looking her
in the eyes.

"No, I don't."

"But you wanted to hear me say it?"

"I wanted to know if you could say it," she answered, gayly.

"And how have I succeeded?"

"Admirably!"

"Sufficiently well to pass muster?"

"Muster--for what?" she asked, with a sly smile.

"For enrollment among your victims."

"Shall I put your name on the list--at the foot?" she laughed.

"Why at the foot?"

"The last comer--you have to work your way up by merit, you know."

"Which consists in?"

"_That_ you will have to discover."

"I shall try," he said. "Is it so very difficult of discovery?"

"No, it should not be so difficult--for you," she answered, with a
flash of her violet eyes. "Mother!" as they reached the piazza--"let me
present Mr. Croyden."

Mrs. Carrington arose to greet him--a tall, slender woman, whose age
was sixty, at least, but who appeared not a day over forty-five,
despite the dark gown and little lace cap she was wearing. She seemed
what the girl had called her--the mother, rather than the grandmother.
And when she smiled!

"Miss Carrington two generations hence. Lord! how do they do it?"
thought Croyden.

"You play Bridge, of course, Mr. Croyden," said Miss Carrington, when
the dessert was being served.

"I like it very much," he answered.

"I was sure you did--so sure, indeed, I asked a few friends in
later--for a rubber or two--and to meet you."

"So it's well for me I play," he smiled.

"It is indeed!" laughed Mrs. Carrington--"that is, if you care aught
for Davila's good opinion. If one can't play Bridge one would better
not be born."

"When you know Mother a little better, Mr. Croyden, you will recognize
that she is inclined to exaggerate at times," said Miss Carrington. "I
admit that I am fond of the game, that I like to play with people who
know how, and who, at the critical moment, are not always throwing the
wrong card--you understand?"

"In other words, you haven't any patience with stupidity," said
Croyden. "Nor have I--but we sometimes forget that a card player is
born, not made. All the drilling and teaching one can do won't give
card sense to one who hasn't any."

"Precisely!" Miss Carrington exclaimed, "and life is too short to
bother with such people. They may