in his looks and belongings with
the intense and frank absorption of an Indian. Indeed, as she
explained to Marjorie, whom she met at the foot of the stairs, it was
only by the help of the saints and her own good decency that she didn't
follow him into his room and stay there to watch him unpack.

"With the charming, purry voice he has, and all the little curlicues
when he finishes his words, and the little cane--does he never sleep
without it, would you say?--and the little Latin books he reads----"

But here Marjorie pulled her up.

"How on earth do you know he reads little Latin books?"

Peggy flushed generously.

"Well, if you must know, I gave one teeny weeny peek through the crack
in the door after I left him, and he was thrown down across his cot
like a long, graceful tomcat or leopard or something, and he pulled a
little green leather book out of his pocket and went to reading it on
the spot. 'Pervigilium Veneris,' its name was. All down the side."

Marjorie had heard of it; in fact, in pursuance of her education Mr.
Logan had made her read several translations of it. It had bored her a
little, but she had read it dutifully, because she had felt at that
time that it would be nice to be intellectually widened, and because
Logan had praised it so highly.

"Oh, yes, I know," she said.

"And is it a holy book?" Peggy inquired.

"Just a long Latin poem about people running around in the woods at
night and having a sort of celebration of Venus's birthday," said
Marjorie absently. It occurred to her Logan would have been worse
shocked if he could have heard her offhand summing-up of his pet poem
than he had been by her attitude about going back to New York with him.
But she had more important things on her mind than Latin poetry. When
Peggy met her she was on her way to go off and think them out.

"Good-night, Peggy," she said. "I'm going to bed. I have to get up
early and go to work."

Peggy laughed.

"Don't talk nonsense. The dance isn't half over, and everybody's crazy
to dance with you. You can sleep till the crack of doom to-morrow, and
with not a soul to stop you."

Marjorie shook her head, smiling a little.

"No. I'm going over to the clearing to do the cooking for the men. I
told Francis I would, tonight."

Peggy made the expected outcry.

"To begin with, I'll wager you can't cook--a little bit of a thing like
you, that I could blow away with a breath! And you'd be all alone
th