Garrison smiled
deliberately up into her eyes, the devil working in him.

Miss Desha returned his look steadily. "And the other girl--the clinging
one?" she asked calmly.

"Oh, she could wait. If we didn't hit it off, I could fall back on her.
I would hate to be an old bachelor."

"No; I don't think it would be quite a success," said the girl
critically. "You see, I think you are the most detestable person I ever
met. I really pity the other girl. It's better to be an old bachelor
than to be a young--cad."

Garrison rose slowly.

CHAPTER VI.

"YOU'RE BILLY GARRISON."

"And what is a cad?" he asked abstractedly.

"One who shames his birth and position by his breeding."

"And no question of dishonesty enters into it?" He could not say why
he asked. "It is not, then, a matter of moral ethics, but of
mere--well----"

"Sensitiveness," she finished dryly. "I really think I prefer rank
dishonesty, if it is offset by courtesy and good breeding. You see, I am
not at all moral."

Here Mrs. Calvert made her appearance, with a book and sunshade. She was
a woman whom a sunshade completed.

"I hope you two have not been quarreling," she observed. "It is too nice
a day for that. I was watching the slaughter of the innocents on the
tennis-court. Really, you play a wretched game, William."

"So I have been informed," replied Garrison. "It is quite a relief to
have so many people agree with me for once."

"In this instance you can believe them," commented the girl. She turned
to Mrs. Calvert. "Whose ravings are you going to listen to now?" she
asked, taking the book Mrs. Calvert carried.

"A matter of duty," laughed the older woman. "No; it's not a novel. It
came this morning. The major wishes me to assimilate it and impart
to him its nutritive elements--if it contains any. He is so miserably
busy--doing nothing, as usual. But it is a labor of love. If we women
are denied children, we must interest ourselves in other things."

"Oh!" exclaimed the girl, with interest; "it's the years record of the
track!" She was thumbing over the leaves. "I'd love to read it! May
I when you've done? Thank you. Why, here's Sysonby, Gold Heels, The
Picket--dear old Picket! Kentucky's pride! And here's Sis. Remember Sis?
The Carter Handicap--"

She broke off suddenly and turned to the silent Garrison. "Did you go
much to the track up North?" She was looking straight at him.

"I--I--that is--why, yes, of course," he murmured vagu