y.

"It will do no good. You will fail."

We walked slowly toward the house and I tried to make her understand
that I was grateful for her interest. She was not pretty, but, as I
had discovered, had some beauties of the mind which made her physical
attractions a matter of small importance.

As we neared the terrace, a thought came to me and I paused.

"You know who the girl Una is?" I asked.

"Yes," she nodded, "but her name isn't Smith."

"I was aware of that. Would you mind telling me who and what she is?"

She remained thoughtful a moment, fingering the stem of a plant.

"I don't see why I shouldn't. Her name is Habberton, Una Habberton.
She was visiting the Laidlaws here last summer. Her family, a mother
and a lot of girls, live in the old house down in Washington Square.
They're fairly well off, but Una has gone in for social work--spends
almost all of her time at it--slumming. I don't know much about her,
but I think she must be pretty fine to give up all her social
opportunities for that."

I smiled.

"She may have another idea of social opportunity," I said.

"Yes--you're quite right. I used the wrong words. One is not
accustomed in Marcia's set to find that sort of thing an opportunity."

"Miss Van Wyck knows her?" I asked.

"Yes. Marcia is on a committee that provides money for this particular
charity. They know each other. She came over to Briar Hills one night
with Phil Laidlaw. Marcia saw her several times in our fields with her
butterfly net. You see, her name is unusual. Marcia guessed the rest."

"Thanks," I said. "I hope you've forgiven me for my churlishness. I
should like to know you better if you'll let me."

She turned her head toward me with a motherly smile.

"I don't care for the society of men," she said amusedly. "They annoy
me exceedingly."

CHAPTER XI

THE SIREN

Something went wrong with Jerry's afternoon, for not long after lunch
I heard his machine in the driveway. But I didn't go out to meet him.
I knew that if there was anything he wanted to say to me he would come
to the study door. But I heard him pass and go upstairs. I hadn't been
able to do any work at my book since yesterday morning, and the
prospect of going on with it seemed to be vanishing with the hours.

The astounding frankness of Miss Gore had set me thinking. As may be
inferred, I did not understand women in the least and hadn't cared to,
for their ways had not been my ways, nor mine theirs.