ce to make
up for. Let me talk like a fool; _you_ know I'm not one.... Oh, the
happiness of this one night!--the happiness of it! I never shall have
enough dancing, never enough of pleasure.... I--I'm perfectly mad over
pleasure; I like men.... I suppose the champagne makes me frank about
it--but I don't care--I do like men----"

"_That_ one?" demanded Mallett, halting her on the edge of the palms
which screened the conservatory doors.

"You mean Mr. Dysart? Yes--I--do like him."

"Well, he's married, and you'd better not," he snapped.

"C-can't I _like_ him?" in piteous astonishment which set the colour
flying into his face.

"Why, yes--of course--I didn't mean----"

"_What_ did you mean? Isn't it--shouldn't he be----"

"Oh, it's all right, Geraldine. Only he's a sort of a pig to keep you
away from--others----"

"Other--_pigs_?"

He turned sharply, seized her, and forcibly turned her toward the light.
She made no effort to control her laughter, excusing it between breaths:

"I didn't mean to turn what you said into ridicule; it came out before I
meant it.... Do let me laugh a little, Duane. I simply cannot care about
anything serious for a while--I want to be frivolous----"

"Don't laugh so loud," he whispered.

She released his arm and sank down on a marble seat behind the flowering
oleanders.

"Why are you so disagreeable?" she pouted. "I know I'm a perfect fool,
and the champagne has gone to my silly head--and you'll never catch me
this way again.... Don't scowl at me. Why don't you act like other men?
Don't you know how?"

"Know how?" he repeated, looking down into the adorably flushed face
uplifted. "Know how to do what?"

"To flirt. I don't. Everybody has tried to teach me to-night--everybody
except you ... Duane.... I'm ready to go home; I'll go. Only my head is
whirling so--Tell me--_are_ you glad to see me again?... Really?... And
you don't mind my folly? And my tormenting you?... And my--my turning
_your_ head a little?"

"You've done _that_," he said, forcing a laugh.

"Have I?... I knew it.... You see, I am horridly truthful to-night. _In
vino veritas!_ ... Tell me--did I, all by myself, turn that
too-experienced head of yours?"

"You're doing it now," he said.

She laughed deliciously. "Now? Am I? Yes, I know I am. I've made a lot
of men think hard to-night.... I didn't know I could; I never before
thought of it.... And--even _you_, too?... You're not very serious, are
you?"

"Y