ows when they meant to do so?--but I really must be thinking of
taking flight. Suppose we get up a party for the White Sulphur?--it
is always so tiresome to go away by one's self. Who will join it?
Eleanor, will you?"

"I am not going to the White Sulphur this year," answered Eleanor
Milbourne.

"Not going to the White Sulphur!" repeated Mrs. Lancaster in a tone of
surprise. Then she laughed. "How stupid I am!" she said. "Of course
I might have known that the temptation to break the pledge of total
abstinence from flirtation would be too great in that paradise of
flirtation. Besides, Mr. Brent's yacht is homeward bound, is it not?"

"I am not aware that there is any connection between Mr. Brent's yacht
and my decision about the White Sulphur," answered Miss Milbourne
haughtily. Then she turned to the person next her, a recumbent figure
lying at full length on the grass. "I don't know anything of which
one grows so weary as of watering-place life when one has seen much of
it," she said. "Its pettiness, its routine, its vapidity, its gossip,
all oppress one like a hideous nightmare. I don't think I shall ever
go to a watering-place again."

"Take care!" said the recumbent. "Don't make an abstinence pledge of
that kind: you will only be tempted to break it, for what will you do
with yourself in summer?"

"I should like to travel. I am possessed with an intense desire to see
the world and the wonders thereof."

"With a yacht such a desire would be easily gratified."

"But I have no yacht," said she with a sharp chord in her voice. It
was an expressive voice at all times, and doubly expressive in this
dim, mysterious starlight.

"Mr. Brent has, however, and I am sure he will be happy to place it at
your service."

"You are very kind to answer for Mr. Brent."

"I answer for him because I judge him by myself. If I had a fleet it
should be subject to your command."

"You are very generous," said she; and now there was a little ripple
as of pleasure in her tone.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Lancaster was calling over the roll of the company
like an orderly sergeant, intent upon beating up recruits for the
White Sulphur. "Major Clare!" she said at last: "where is Major
Clare?" Then, when the gentleman who had just offered Miss Milbourne
his airy fleet responded lazily, "Here!" she added, "_You_ will go,
will you not?"

"I regret to say that it is impossible," he answered. "I have danced
my last _galop_ at the White Sulphur.