u."

"I always want him. I swim in his irony and can't sink, like a tourist
in the Dead Sea."

"What a left-handed compliment!"

"A right-handed one would bore you to death, and my aim in life is--"

"To avoid being bored. How often do you succeed in your aim?"

"Whenever I am with you in this delightful house."

"It is delightful," said Charmian to her host. "But why? Of course it is
beautiful. But that's not all. It's personal. Perhaps that's it."

She got up, and walked slowly away from the fire, very naturally, with a
gesture, just touching her soft cheek and fluttering her fingers toward
the glow, as if she were too hot. Max Elliot accompanied her.

"And all the lovely music that has sounded here," she continued,
"perhaps lingers silently in the air, and, without being aware of it, we
feel the vibrations."

She sat down on a sofa near the Steinway grand piano, which stood on a
low dais, looked up at Max Elliot, and added, in quite a different
voice:

"Shall we hear any of his music to-night?"

"I believe now we may."

"Why--now?"

Elliot looked toward Mrs. Mansfield.

"Because of mother, you mean?"

"He likes her."

"Anyone can see that."

After a moment she added, with a touch of irritation:

"He's evidently very difficile for an unknown man."

"No, it isn't that at all. If you ever know him well, you will
understand."

"What?" she asked with petulance.

"That his reserve is a right instinct, nothing more. Between ourselves,"
he bent toward her, "I made a little mistake in asking Mrs. Shiffney,
delightful though she is."

"I wondered why you had asked her, when you didn't want even to ask me."

"Middle-aged as I am, I get carried away by people. I met Mrs. Shiffney
to-day at a concert. She was so absolutely right in her enthusiasm, so
clever and artistic--though she's ignorant of music--over the whole
thing, that--well, here she is."

"And here I am!"

"Yes, here you are!" he said genially.

He had been standing. Now he sat down beside her, crossed one leg over
the other, held his knee with his clasped hands, and continued:

"The worst of it is Mrs. Shiffney has made him bolt several doors. When
she looked at him I could see at once that she made him feel
transparent."

"Poor thing! Tell me, do you enjoy very much protecting all the
sensitive artistic temperaments that come into this room? Do you enjoy
arranging the cotton-wool wadding so that there may be no chance of a
nast