ide home in
the moonlight, which the Violet took with good Dennis Farraday and
during which she discovered that there is such a thing as honor among
men about poaching on other men's preserves, and during which, also, the
fate of Major Adair, Patricia, Roger, and old black Jeff hung in the
balance.

"Just what are we racing?" she questioned as they flew along the beach
with rubber tires that just skimmed the hard, white sand.

"A bit fast?" asked Mr. Farraday, with a protective laugh, as he slowed
down the flight.

"Let's loaf and talk a while," the Violet answered, with a tentative
note of invitation in her voice.

"I had thought you and Van and I would have a great powwow over the
play this evening, and it's fierce that he had to get back to that
furnace a night like this, but we can limp along on a few ideas without
him, maybe. What do you think of 'The Purple Slipper'?" As he set the
car at an easy pace he turned and looked down at the lovely face so near
his shoulder with a great and extremely boyish enthusiasm, which was
very delightful and very irritating to the Violet.

"What do you think about it? You tell first," she said with a smile that
answered his enthusiasm adequately and which served to cover with
agility the fact that she had not read the play.

"Well, at first it seemed a queer kind of vehicle for you, but as I read
on I could see you queening it in all those furbelows of dress as well
as adventure and sentiment. It's a little serious in situation, but it
is full of comedy adventure in line, and I can just see the audience eat
you up in it. I told Van so, and I bought in before I had read more
than half the second act. I don't feel as though I could wait to see you
in that dinner scene while you hold the enemies of your spouse
confounded. I agree with Van that your emotional qualities may exceed
your comedy."

"Does Van back my emotional acting against my comedy?" the Violet asked,
with barely concealed surprise in her voice.

"He does. He says that 'The Purple Slipper' is going to be the sensation
of Broadway for the early fall, and I agree with him. Do you feel as
sure of it as he says you are?"

"Yes," answered the Violet, and by her assent in premeditated ignorance
of the contents of the play manuscript she put the second cross on the
production which made it a double on the fate of Mr. Dennis Farraday as
a theatrical producer. However, that fact may have been balanced by the
fact that