remark was almost sternly
uncompromising.

"Even if I could, don't let me."

"Why?"

"I want the composer of the music I heard at the little house to be very
strong in every way. No, no; I am not going to try to guide you, my
friend!"

There was a sound in her voice as if she were speaking to herself.

"I never met anyone so capable of comradeship--no woman, I mean--as
you."

"That's a compliment I like!"

At this moment the door opened and Charmian came in, wrapped in furs,
her face covered by a veil. When she saw Heath with her mother she
pushed the veil up rather languidly.

"Oh, Mr. Heath! We haven't seen you for ages. What have you been about?"

"Nothing in particular."

"Haven't you?"

"Take off that thick coat, Charmian, and come and talk to us."

"Shall I?"

She unbuttoned the fur slowly. Claude helped her to take it off. As she
emerged he thought, "How slim she is!" He had often before looked at
girls and wondered at their slimness, and thought that it seemed part of
their mystery. It both attracted and repelled him.

"Are you talking of very interesting things?" she asked, coming toward
the fire.

"I hear you are going for a cruise with Mrs. Shiffney," said Claude,
uneasily.

"I believe I am. It would be rather nice to get out of this weather. But
you don't mind it."

"How can you know that?"

"It's very simple, almost as simple as some of Sherlock Holmes's
deductions. You have refused the cruise which I have accepted. I expect
you were right. No doubt one might get terribly bored on a yacht, unable
to get away from people. I almost wonder that I dared to say 'Yes!'"

"Where are you going to sit, Charmian?" said Mrs. Mansfield.

"Dearest mother, I'm afraid I must go upstairs. I've got to try on coats
and skirts."

She turned toward Heath.

"The voyage, you know. I wish you could have come!"

She held out her thin hand, smiling. She was looking very serene, very
sure of herself.

"I'm to answer Mrs. Shiffney on Sunday," said Heath abruptly.

Something in Charmian's voice and manner had made him feel defiant.

"Oh, I thought you had answered! Is Sunday your day for making up your
mind?"

Before he could reply she went out of the room slowly, smiling.

CHAPTER VII

On the following Sunday night at ten o'clock Max Elliot gave one of his
musical parties.

Delia had long since emerged from her rest cure, but was still suffering
severely from its after-effects. It ha