the
long, straight robes he had designed for her. Bobs displayed her ready
wit for their amusement. Mrs. Brendon was genuinely entertained, but
Althea was on the watch every minute. Not a glance exchanged between any
of the three escaped her. Mrs. Paxton's condition had given her a shock.
She had come to the house with the deliberate intention of finding out
what her power was over Jerry. She could not believe that he loved Jane,
and yet a year of untiring effort on her part to intrigue him had
accomplished nothing.

After dinner they wandered about, watching the moonrise. Jerry and Miss
Morton strolled to the gate, then beyond. The three women sat on the
veranda. Mrs. Brendon made herself most agreeable. She spoke of Jerry's
career with enthusiasm.

"Artists need advertising just like anything else," she said. "Once you
get people to talking about so-and-so's delightful portraits, his fame
is made."

"I wonder who press-agented Sargent," murmured Bobs. "_We_ all think it
is a crime for Jerry to give his time to these portraits," she added.

"You don't like his portraits, Miss Roberts?"

"I think a portrait by Jerry Paxton, savin' yer prisince, is a
brilliant, shallow _tour de force_. He's got the clever knack of making
people look patrician. It is the most flattering thing a portrait
painter can do to you."

"Bobs, behave yourself," said Jane. "This is one of her hobbies, Mrs.
Brendon; don't listen to her."

"I'm sure you think your husband's portraits are wonderful," her guest
reassured her.

"I'm no critic," Jane evaded.

"Hypocritttt!" Bob hissed in Jane's ear.

Eleven o'clock came but no sign of the other two. Bobs yawned openly;
Mrs. Brendon stifled hers.

"Where do you suppose they have gone?" she said finally.

"Maybe they're gone off in the motor boat."

"I'm for bed," said Bobs.

"Let us all go," Jane suggested.

"It's outrageous of Althea!" exclaimed Mrs. Brendon.

"Isn't she always outrageous? That type so often is," remarked Bobs
ingenuously.

They went to their rooms. At midnight Bobs went to Jane's door.

"I could kill him!" she said.

"Wouldn't do any good. Go back to bed and go to sleep," Jane ordered.

About half-past one Jerry appeared. He explained that they went off in
the motor boat, and it broke down. When they finally landed, Althea
slipped and turned her ankle.

"I had the devil's own time getting her home," he said crossly. "I'm
sorry to waken you, Jane."

"No mat