ward curl of the black lashes somehow
conveyed the impression that she was peeping through them. The tilt of
the red lips, with the pearly teeth just showing in a smile, was of so
alluring an enchantment that the most level-headed of men could scarcely
have failed to pause and admire.

Rufus paused so long that at last she lifted those glorious eyes of hers
in semi-scornful interrogation.

"What's the matter?" she inquired. "Don't you want it?"

He made an odd gesture as of one at a loss to explain himself. "Won't
you drink first?" he said, his voice very low.

"No, thank you," said Columbine briskly. "I don't like it."

"Then--I don't like it either," he said.

"Don't be silly!" she said. "Of course you do! I know you do! Take it,
and don't be ridiculous!"

But Rufus turned away with solid resolution. "No, thanks," he said.

Columbine set down the tray again with a hint of exasperation. "You're
just like a child," she said severely. "A great, overgrown boy, that's
what you are!"

"All right," said Rufus, propping himself against the door-post.

"It's not all right. It's time you grew up." Columbine picked up the
full glass, and, carrying it daintily, advanced upon him. "I suppose I
shall have to make you take it like medicine," she remarked.

She stood against the door-post, facing him, upright, slender, exquisite
as an opening flower.

"Drink, puppy, drink!" she said flippantly, and elevated the glass
towards her guest's somewhat grim lips.

The sombre blue eyes came down to her with something of a flash. And in
the same moment Rufus's great right hand disengaged itself from his
pocket and grasped the slim wrist of the hand that held the wine.

"You drink--first!" said Rufus, and guided the glass with unmistakable
resolution to the provocative red lips.

She jerked back her head to avoid it, but the doorpost against which she
stood checked the backward movement. Before she could prevent it the
wine was in her mouth.

She flung up her free hand and would have knocked the glass away, but
Rufus could be prompt of action when he chose. He caught it from her and
drained it almost in the same movement. Not a drop was spilt between
them. He set down the glass on a shelf of the conservatory, and propped
himself up once more with his hands in his pockets.

Columbine's face was burning red; her eyes literally blazed. Her whole
body vibrated as if strung on wires. "How--dare you?" she said, and
showed her wh