Madcap

would be quite forgotten amid this gay company. On Thimble Island, as in New York, he had not found them necessary to his own existence, and it was quite clear that her

ls, and injected polite bromidics into the conversation which Reggie Armistead, who knew nothing of Markham's art and cared les

easy terms with the group he had joined. Mrs. Renshaw's appraisal and patronizing air dismayed him less than the china blue eyes of Phyllis Van Vorst which she had raised wit

to make her guests awa

seating him on her rig

ntion which detracted

st, as well as Olg

aroused his sense of humor, until with a story of an experience in France, which he told with a

e garden below the terrace with Olga Tcherny. The heavy odor of the roses was about them, unstirred by the land breeze which faintly sighed in the treetops. A warm moon hung over Thimble Island, its soft lights catching in

her slender figure as she reached forward, plucked a rose and raised its petals to her lips-a full flown rose, wasting its last hours of loveliness. She

ions; but Olga Tcherny, who had flitted a zig-zag butterfly course among the exotics, now found in the meadows she had scorned a shrub quite to her liking. Markham was the most refreshingly original person she had ever met. He always said exactly what he thought and refused to speak at all unless he had something to say. Those hours in the studio when he had painted her portrait had been hours to remember, sound, sane hours in which they had discussed many things not comprehended in her philosophy, when he had led her by easy stages up the steep path he had climbed until she had gained, from the pinnacle of his successes, a

a long while. Such words as they could speak would have taken something from the perfection of their background. But Markham thought of her as h

d in her and she could not deceive him. She knew his nature well. She had not been a student of men all her life for nothing. It would have been so easy to lie to him, to befuddle and bewitch him, to bring him to her feet

she asked at last in the

een too kind and pat

nuine impulse. It did not move benea

id coolly, "I

offend

pointed me a little. I had

lau

orld. I don't deserve your friendship. But I di

riends. But I hoped you wouldn't disappoint them. Mrs

e. "Her portrait! I thought

in one's judgment of her than when one thinks one is wrong." She gave a sh

rious," he

do it?"

way toward

d to do any port

erest you?" she

it would be profi

evadin

le, hospitable-and quite irresponsible. But then she would wan

paint her. It will do you a lot of good. Besides,

ard Miss Challoner," he said slowly. "She's too g

. "You always had a ne

didn'

and thrown them aside as one would a rotten orange; Hilda Ashhurst who plays cards for a living and knows how to win; Crosby Downs, a merciless voluptuary who makes a god of his belly; Archie Westcott, t

lmness of her tone only brought its bitterness into higher rel

he idleness that better men and women have bought for them. Call them your crowd if you like. I know better. You've only taken people as you've found them-taken life as it

passionately, "I never h

ed his and then qu

ly? It's too late for me to change. I can't. I'm pledged. If I gamble, keep late hours, and do all the things

ose with a sudden

not in the humor for it-n

er hands was clenched on the balustrade a

angry? I'm so

y relaxed as she leaned against the p

rry congregation. They're laughing at you-as I am. A sermo

of those with whom she affiliated was no new thing in thei

I spoke," h

n and threw out her arm

arden to make love to me and he preaches to me instead-preaches to me! of the world, the

the strands of her hair brushing his temples,

ke moralizing in a rose-garden by moonlight? What do they tell you-the roses? Of the dull earth from which they come? Don't they whisper of the kisses of the night

m. But it was too late. She had gone too far and she realized it in a moment; for thou

t me, would y

evenge she knew, but not the carelessness of these kisses of retr

" she said faintl

man of stone. C

d you well and you-O God! yo

il you k

not

he wh

Oh, the damage

repa

life--our friendship--it was so

ly laughe

ll ki

ev

sha

ev

sensate, and upon his hand a drop of moisture fell-a tear limpid, pure from t

ered softly. "Wh

k-something gentle and noble t

mmered. "I didn't kn

released herself, and drew away while

hat more than anything else i

e stronger,

does not thri

But her quick ge

hat can you k

ng. Te

the game as she had played it, mistrusting the tokens she had shown and taking her coquetry at its worldly value; would have kissed and perhaps forgotten the next morning. But as she looked in Markham's eyes she saw with dismay that he still

s, that you should not make the arms of your lady blac

ewildered by the su

he said stupidly.

s? If I did"-examining her wrist-"I

from his great height, his

ntent with friendship. No woman ever is

ing should be done upon the soft pedal mon ami, adagio, con amore

again, but this time

mprove with pract

her again but she e

u, no-" s

f feminine laughter among the vines from which there immediately emerged a white satin slipper, a slender white ankle, followed quickly by another-draperies, and at last Hermia Challoner

onto the pergola-" She stopped and looked with quick intuition from one to the other. "Sorr