ame to her what
bill of health could he produce to prove that he was not a sneak-thief
in disguise? She had accepted the cynical conclusion that she might
never be sure of any man's love and the tenderer little heart-nerves
which govern impulse were growing numb. Under a naive freshness and
girlish fragrance of personality, lay masked batteries of distrust and
hardness. The Duke de Metuan fancied himself genuinely in love with her.
Of that she was sure, but should the Duke de Metuan learn tomorrow
morning that she had overnight become penniless--she broke off and
laughed.

And tonight had come the unwarned tumult of feeling against which she
possessed no argument. Jefferson Edwardes had looked at her and his eyes
were a guarantee of honesty beyond question. She did not even ask to see
the Love God's passport. This man was a member of a great family of
bankers; a family that had stood for generations among the richest in
the country. Ham's magic control of the money tides could not even
subconsciously influence his decisions.

It was wonderful to sit there in the window, adrift on a tide of
elation, and to know that the numbness of her heart was not a permanent
paralysis--that she had a soul. It was absurdedly delightful, too, to
reflect upon the illogical swiftness with which it had all happened.

"Tomorrow," she announced to herself, nodding her head very decisively,
"I shall be furious with him. I shall refuse to speak to him. I shall
let him realize that such lordly assumption brings swift retribution."
Then, low and gaily, she laughed. "After I've punished him I'll be very
nice to him, unless--" her lips tightened as she added--"unless he says
he's sorry he did it and apologizes. If he does that I'll never speak to
him again."

* * * * *

While Mary was spending so comfortable and pleasing an hour with her
reflections and while Jefferson Edwardes was tramping the hills several
miles away, a small number of unattached men lingered near the
punch-bowl and cigars in the huge living-room of the lodge.

One of these refugees from the zone of dancing activities was of more
than ordinarily striking appearance. When he stood he towered and even
when he sat, as now, morosely lounging and taciturn, he bulked large and
wore a countenance of such strength and determination as suited his
giant body. In spite of his great physique he carried no superfluous
flesh, but tapered to the waist and,