to her. Men generally entertain the
fallacy that a woman demands homage, first to her physical appearance,
next to her taste in gowns, and finally to her intellect, when in the
majority of cases it is the other way around. Elsa knew that she was
beautiful, but it no longer interested her to hear men state the fact,
knowing as she did that it was simply to win her good will.

"Would you like to sit next to me at the table?"

"May I?" eagerly.

"I'll have Martha change her chair for yours. Do you speak Italian?"

"Enough for ordinary conversation. It is a long time since I have
spoken the tongue."

"Then, let us talk it as much as possible at the table, if only to
annoy those around us."

He laughed.

"I was educated in Rome," she added.

"Are you religious?"

Elsa shrugged. "At present I don't know just what my religion is.
Scandalous, isn't it? But for many weeks a thousand gods have beset
me. I've got to get back to civilization in order to readjust my
views. At luncheon, then. I am beginning to feel snoozy."

Craig had been eying the two, evilly. Set the wind in that direction?
An idea found soil in his mind, and grew. He would put a kink, as he
vulgarly expressed it, into that affair. He himself wasn't good enough
for her. The little cat should see. Warrington's ultimatum of the
night before burned and rankled, and a man of Craig's caliber never
accepted the inevitable without meditating revenge, revenge of a
roundabout character, such as would insure his physical safety. The
man could not play fair; there was nothing either in his heart or in
his mind upon which square play could find foothold. There was nothing
loyal or generous or worthy in the man. There is something admirable
in a great rascal; but a sordid one is a pitiful thing. Craig entered
the smoke-room and ordered a peg. At luncheon he saw them sitting
together, and he smothered a grin. Couldn't play cards, or engineer a
pool, eh? All right. There were other amusements.

That afternoon Martha chanced to sit down in a vacant chair, just out
of the range of the cricketers. She lolled back and idly watched the
batsmen. And then she heard voices.

"She is Elsa Chetwood. I remember seeing her pictures. She is a
society girl, very wealthy, but something of a snob."

Martha's ears tingled. A snob, indeed, because she minded principally
her own affairs!

"They think because they belong to the exclusive sets they can br