homage to her charms, and amour propre would not allow him to give in
without a struggle. He was only too willing in most things to step aside
of his own free will--things so soon lost their interest; but to be
forced to play the part of rejected spectator, that could not be
permitted. His eyes followed her smilingly. "I bet she turns and waves!"
thought the despicable Tony. "She's a charming lady's maid who likes
fun, respects herself, and means to be treated with correctness--when
she chooses. She will turn and wave before reaching that bend in the
road. And _I_ will be stand-offish and refuse to reply. A perfect cause
of offense, with a delightful misunderstanding to follow. _But_, I shall
follow her secretly along the hedge and find out where she lives.
Admirable!"

She had gone some little distance, but still did not turn round.
Worshipers of beauty, modesty, good feeling and decorous behavior,
rejoice! She did not turn round! Her gay _svelte_ figure marched bravely
along, virginal defiance in her shoulders and the swing of her
tailor-made skirt. The fragments of a gallant whistle floated back to
Tony, and he murmured "Bravado!" with an uneasy doubt. The curve of the
road was close at hand now: a few more yards would carry her past in
triumph, and the sex be vindicated. Tony was in painful agitation, for
his knowledge of woman and powers of swift diagnosis were at stake.
Three yards were left--two--hope seemed dead. Then, alas! she stopped
and a smile crept to his lips. But she did not turn round--there is
still a loophole for the sex,--she did not turn round! All she did was
to open her reticule and take her handkerchief from it. As the
handkerchief was withdrawn a bit of pasteboard was caught in its folds
and fell--unnoticed?--on the road. Tony waited with vast contentment
until she had turned the corner. Then with a light heart he followed and
picked up the card. He read the inscription with amused curiosity. It
was, "Miss Arkwright, The Quiet House."

CHAPTER XIII

RATHER STAGY

After Beatrice had bidden Lionel good-by in the early dawn she did the
most sensible thing possible: she went to bed. But it is one thing to go
to bed and another to go to sleep, as many a sufferer--from insomnia,
love, indigestion, or kindred ailments--has found to his cost. You feel
weary, oppressed with the want of sleep, let us say, yawnsome--in a
word, ready to drop off the moment you are between the sheets. But, if a