being led away by the not very
pretty but extremely comforting Georgia. "He's a real man, every inch of
him." ["Every inch a King!" she thought quickly, unashamed of the pun.]
"A big man who does big things in a big way," she ran on, indicating
that she, too, after that brief meeting had been lured into
superlatives.

"Mr. Gratton," smiled urbanely. For his own part he might have been
called every inch a concrete expression of suavity. He was clad in the
conventional city-dweller's "outdoor rig." Shining puttees lying bravely
about the shape of his leg; brown outing breeches, creased, laced at
their abbreviated ends; shirt of the sport effect; a shrewd-eyed man of
thirty-five with ambitions, a chalky complexion, and a very weak mouth
with full red lips.

"Miss Gloria," he whispered as he managed to have her all to himself a
moment, "you'll make me jealous."

She was used to him saying stupid things. Yet she laughed and seemed
pleased. Gratton egotistically supposed her thought was of him; King
would have been amazed to know that she was already watching the house
for his coming. And he would have been no end amazed and bristling with
defence had he glimpsed the astonishing fact that Gloria already fully
and clearly meant to parade him before her summer friends as her latest
and most virile admirer. Gratton's heavy-lidded pale eyes trailed over
her speculatively.

That forenoon King shook hands with Archie, Teddy, Gratton, and the
rest, made his formal bows to Gloria's girl friends, and felt relief
when the inept banalities languished and he was free to draw apart.
Gratton, with slender finger to his shadowy moustache, bore down upon
him. King did not like this suave individual; he had the habit of
judging a man by first impressions and sticking stubbornly to his snap
judgment until circumstance showed him to be in error. He liked neither
the way Gratton walked nor talked; he had no love for the cut of his
eye; now he resented being approached when there was no call for it.
Never was there a more friendly man anywhere than Mark King when he
found a soul-brother; never a more aloof at times like this one.

"I have been tremendously interested," Gratton led off ingratiatingly,
"in the things I have heard of you, Mr. King. By George, men like you
live the real life."

The wild fancy came booming upon King to kick him over the verandah
railing.

"Think so?" he said coolly, wondering despite himself what "things"
G