nch
herself away. Slowly he relaxed the embrace that had made a brute of
him. The flapper had not screamed. She was facing him now, breathless
herself. He put her a little way from him; he wanted her to see it as he
did.

The flapper drew a long and rather catchy breath, then she adjusted a
strand of hair misplaced by his violence.

"I _knew_ it!" she began, in tones surprisingly cool. "I knew it ever so
long ago, from the very first moment!"

He tried to speak, but had no words. His utterance was formless. "When
did _you_ first know?" she persisted. She was patting her hair into
place with both hands.

He didn't know; he didn't know that he knew now; but recalling her
speech he had overheard, he had the presence of mind to commit a soulful
perjury.

"From the very first," he lied glibly. "Something went over me--just
like _that_. I can't tell you how, but I knew!"

"You made me so afraid of you," confessed the flapper.

"I never meant to, couldn't help it."

"I'm horribly shy, but I knew it had to be. I felt powerless."

"I _know_," he sympathized.

"Our day has come!" roared Grandma from out of the gloom. "We know our
rights! We've broken glass! We break heads!" This was followed by "Ar!
Ar! Ar!" meant for sinister growls of rage. It seemed to be the united
voice of the mob.

They drew apart, once more self-conscious. They walked slowly out,
passed the mob scene, which ignored them, and went with awkward little
hesitations up the wide walk to the Breede portal. To Bean's suddenly
cooled eye, the vast gray house towered above him as a menace. He had a
fear that it might fall upon him.

At the entrance they stood discreetly apart. Bean wondered what he ought
to say. His sense of guilt was overwhelming. But the flapper seemed
clear-headed enough.

"You leave it to me," she said, as if he had confided his perplexity to
her. "Leave it all to me. _I've_ always managed."

"Yes," said Bean, meaning nothing whatever.

She made little movements that suggested departure. She was regarding
him now with the old curious look that had puzzled him.

"You're just as perfectly nice as I knew you were," she announced, with
an obvious pride in this bit of proved wisdom.

"Good-night!"

From a distance of five feet she bestowed the little double-nod upon him
and fled.

"Good-night!" he managed to call after her. Then he was aware that he
had wanted to call her "Chubbins!" He liked that name for her. If he
could