es, I am. I tell you, Geraldine, I'm about as much in love with you
as----"

"In _love_!"

"Yes----"

"No!"

"Yes, I am----"

But she would not have it put so crudely.

"You dear boy," she said, "we'll both be quite sane to-morrow.... No, I
don't mind your kissing my hand--I'm dreadfully tired, anyway.... We'll
find Kathleen, shall we? My head doesn't buzz much."

"Geraldine," he said, deliberately encircling her waist, "you are only
the same small girl I used to know, after all."

[Illustration: "'Duane!' she gasped--'why did you?'"]

"Y-yes, I'm afraid so."

"And you're not really old enough to really care for anybody, are you?"

"Care?"

"Love."

"No, I'm not. Don't talk to me that way, Duane."

He drew her suddenly into his arms and kissed her on the cheek twice,
and again on the mouth, as, crimson, breathless, she strained away from
him.

"Duane!" she gasped--"why did you?" Then the throbbing of her body and
crushed lips made her furious. "Why did you do that?" she cried
fiercely--but her voice ended in a dry sob; she covered her head and
face with bare arms; her hands tightened convulsively and clenched.

"Oh," she said, "how could you!--when I came to you--feeling--afraid of
myself! I know you now. You are what they say you are."

"What do they say I am?" he stammered.

"Horrid--I don't know--wild!--whatever that implies.... I didn't care--I
didn't care even to understand, because I thought you generous and nice
to me--and I was so confident of you that I came with you and told you I
had had some champagne which made my head swim.... And you--did this!
It--it was contemptible."

He bit his lip, but said nothing.

"Why did you do it?" she demanded, dropping her arms from her face and
staring at him. "Is that the sort of thing you did abroad?"

"Can't you see I'm in love with you?" he said.

"Oh! Is _that_ love? Then keep it for your models and--and Bohemian
grisettes! A decent man couldn't have done such a thing to me. I--I
loathe myself for being silly and weak enough to have touched that
wine, but I have more contempt for you than I have for myself. What you
did was cowardly!"

Much of the colour had fled from her face; her eyes, bluish underneath
the lower lids, turned wearily, helplessly in search of Kathleen.

"I knew I was unfit for liberty," she said, half to herself. "What an
ending to my first pleasure!"

"For Heaven's sake, Geraldine," he broke out, "don't take an accide