ather) "--sacrifice your position here."

"Why not?"

"Because you tried to gain it--or--or if not exactly that, at least you
had some object in wanting to be near Father which you have not yet
gained." She hesitated once more, not looking at him. Her words were
unconvincing to herself; that morning, when her father had spoken them,
they had been quite convincing, but since this afternoon she was no
longer sure of their truth. What it was that had happened during the
afternoon she could not make out; instinctively, however, she felt that
it had so altered Eaton's relations with them that now he might attempt
to escape.

They had reached the front of the house, and a groom sprang to take the
horse. She let Eaton help her down; as they entered the house,
Avery--who had reached the house only a few moments before them--was
still in the hall. And again she was startled in the meeting of the
two men by Avery's triumph and the swift flare of defiance on Eaton's
face.

As she went up to her apartments, her maid met her at the door.

"Mr. Santoine wishes you to dine with him, Miss Santoine," the maid
announced.

"Very well," she answered.

She changed from her afternoon dress slowly. As she did so, she
brought swiftly in review the events of the day. Chiefly it was to the
polo practice and to Eaton's dismay at his one remarkable stroke that
her mind went. Had Donald Avery seen something in that which was not
plain to herself?

Harriet Santoine knew polo from watching many games, but she was aware
that--as with any one who knows a game merely as a spectator--she was
unacquainted with many of the finer points of play. Donald had played
almost since a boy, he was a good, steady, though not a brilliant
player. Had Donald recognized in Eaton something more than merely a
good player trying to pretend ignorance of the game? The thought
suddenly checked and startled her. For how many great polo players
were there in America? Were there a hundred? Fifty? Twenty-five?
She did not know; but she did know that there were so few of them that
their names and many of the particulars of their lives were known to
every follower of the sport.

She halted suddenly in her dressing, perplexed and troubled. Her
father had sent Eaton to the country club with Avery; there Avery,
plainly, had forced Eaton into the polo game. By her father's
instructions? Clearly there seemed to have been purpose in what had
been done, and