It was a moment before Gallatin realized the full significance of the incident, but when he turned to look at Nina, he found her leaning against the wall convulsed with silent laughter.

“You knew, Nina?” he said struggling for his self-control. “You saw them—there?”

“Oh, yes, I saw them,” she replied easily. “I couldn’t help it very well.”

“You asked me to—to kiss you!” he stammered, his color rising.

“Yes, I did. You never had kissed me before, you know, Phil.”

“You—you wanted her to see,” he asserted.

“I didn’t mind her seeing—if that’s what you mean.”

“You had no right——”

She held up her hand with a mock gesture of command.

“Don’t speak! You’ll say something you’ll regret. It’s not often I ask a man to kiss me, and when I do I expect a display of softer emotions. But anger—dismay! I’m surprised at you. You’re really quite too rustic, or is it rusty? Besides, you know, I’ve done you the greatest of favors.”

“Favors!” he exclaimed.

“Precisely. In addition to accepting your—er—fraternal benediction, I’ve succeeded in creating a diversion in the ranks of the dear enemy. Jealousy is the vinegar of the salad of love, Phil. Jane is quite sure to love you madly now.”

[213]

“Come,” he said briefly, “let’s get out of this.”

“You mustn’t use that tone to me. It’s extremely annoying.”

“You’re mischievous,” he growled.

“Am I?” with derisive sweetness. “I hadn’t meant to be. Perhaps my infatuation has blinded me. I’m really very badly in love with you, Phil. And you must see that it’s extremely unpleasant for me to discover that you’re in love with somebody else. You know I can’t yield placidly. I’m not the placid kind. I may be in advance of my generation, but I’m sure if I had my way I’d abduct you to-night in the motor and fly to Hoboken.”

Gallatin laughed. He couldn’t help it. She was too absurd. And her mocking effrontery made it difficult for him to remember that a moment ago he had thought her serious.

“Fortunately, I am capable of moderating my emotions,” she went on. “My heart may be beating wildly, but behold me quietly submissive to your decision. All I ask is that you won’t offer to be a brother to me, Phil. I really couldn’t stand for that.”

“Nina, you’re the limit.”

“I know I am—I’m excited. It’s the outward and visible expression of inward and spiritual dissolution. What would you advise, Paris green or a leap from the Metropolitan Tower? One exit is plebeian, the other squashy; or had I better blow out the gas? Will you see that my headlines are not too sentimental? Not, ‘She Died for Love’; something like ‘Scorned—Social Success Suicides’ or ‘Her Last Cropper,’ are more in my line. Sorrowfully alliterative, if you like, but chastely simple. Aren’t you sorry for me, Phil?”

“Hardly. As the presentment of disappointed affection you’re not a success. Your martyrdom has all the[214] aspects of a frolic at my expense. Don’t you think you’ve made a fool of me long enough?”

“Yes, I think so. I have made a fool of you, haven’t I? I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to until I found that you had made a fool of me. I wanted company.”

Her humor changed as he turned away from her and she restrained him with a hand on his arm, her eyes seeking his.

“You’re my sort, Phil, not hers,” she whispered earnestly. “You’re a vagabond—a vagrant on life’s highway, as I am—a failure, as I am, only a worse one. You’ve tried to stem the tide against you, but you couldn’t. What have you to do with Jane Loring’s bourgeois respectability? Do you think you’ll be immune because of her? Do you think that she can cleanse you of the blood of your fathers and make you over on her own prim pattern? You’re run in a different mold. What Jane Loring wants is a stupid respectable Dodo, an impoverished patriarch with an exclusive visiting list. Let her buy one in the open market. The clubs are full of them.” She laughed aloud. “What does Jane Loring know of you? What chance have you——?”

“I think I’ve heard enough, Nina,” said Gallatin. He walked to the dining-room and stood, waiting for her to pass before him. She paused, shrugged her shoulders carelessly and, as she passed through the door, she leaned toward him and whispered.

“You’ll never marry her, Phil. Do you hear? Never!”

Gallatin inclined his head slightly and followed.

The dance was in full swing, and outside in the enclosed veranda a game of “Pussy Wants a Corner” had come to an end because Sam Purviance insisted upon standing in the middle of the floor and reciting tearfully the[215] tale of “Old Mother Hubbard and Her Dog.” Then they tried charades which failed because the actors insisted on disappearing into the wings and couldn’t be made to appear, and because the audience found personal problems more interesting. A game of “Follow My Leader,” led by Larry Kane upstairs and down, developed such amazing feats of gymnastics that Nellie Pennington rebelled.

Phil Gallatin followed Jane with his eyes, but she refused even to glance in his direction and he was very unhappy. There seemed no chance of getting a word with her, for when at the end of the dance he approached her, she snubbed him very prettily and went out with Van Duyn to sit among the palms at the end of the veranda. Gallatin felt very much like the fool Nina had said he was and wandered around from group to group joining half-heartedly in their conversations, his uneasiness apparent to any who chose to perceive. Several times Nina Jaffray passed him smiling wickedly, and once she stopped and whispered.

“Hadn’t you better go home in my car, Phil? I don’t believe there will be room for you in Jane’s.”

He laughed with an air of unconcern he was very far from feeling.

“Thanks, I’m afraid you’d take me to Hoboken.”

She went on to the dance and Gallatin watched her until she disappeared. He was alone in the dining-room. Through the door by which she had gone came the sound of the piano and the chatter of gay voices. Through the other door he could see a jovial group of his familiars sitting around a table in the center of which was a tall bottle bearing a familiar label, his Enemy enthroned as usual in this company. He was like a vessel in the chop of two tides, one of which would bring him to a safe port and the other to sea.

[216]

He looked away, hesitated, then walked hastily to the Colonial sideboard where he drew a cup of hot coffee and drank it quickly. Then he followed Nina into the dancing-room.

He waited impatiently until the dance was finished, and then, when Jane Loring was left for a moment alone, with more valor than discretion, went up to her.

“Jane,” he whispered, “you’ve got to give me a moment alone.”

She turned away, but he stood in front of her again.

“It’s all a mistake, if you’ll let me explain——”

“Let me pass, please.”

“No, not until you promise to listen to me—to-night. I’ll go in your machine, and then——”

“I’m sorry. There’s no room for you, Mr. Gallatin.”

“I must see you to-night.”

“No—not to-night,” and in lowered tones, “or any other night.”

“Jane, I——”

“Let me pass, please.”

The music began again and Percy Endicott at this moment came up, claiming her for a partner. Before Gallatin could speak again, Jane was in Endicott’s arms, and laughing gayly, was sweeping around the room to the measure of a two-step. Gallatin stared at her as though he had not been able to believe his own ears. He waited a moment and then slowly walked back toward the kitchen.

His appearance in the doorway was the signal for a shout from Egerton Savage who held a glass aloft and offered his health. His health! He swayed forward heavily. What did it matter? His blood surged. What would it matter—just once? Just once!

He lunged forward into the chair somebody pushed[217] toward him, took up the glass of champagne his host had poured for him, drained it, his eyes closed, and put it down on the table.

Just once! It was a beautiful wine—sent out for the occasion from Mr. Savage’s own collection in town, and it raced through Gallatin’s veins like quicksilver, tingling to his very finger ends. He looked up and laughed. Something had bothered him a moment ago. What was it? He had forgotten. Life was a riot of color and delight and here were his friends—his men friends—who were always glad to see a fellow, no matter what. It was good to have that kind of friends.

Somebody told a story. Gallatin had not heard the beginning of it, but he realized that he was laughing uproariously, more loudly than any one else at the table. The lights swam in a mist of tobacco smoke and the figures of the men around him were blurred. Egerton Savage had filled his glass again, and Gallatin was in the very act of reaching forward to take it when Bibby Worthington, who sat alongside, rose suddenly as though to get a match from the holder, and the sleeve of his laced coat somewhat obtrusively swept Gallatin’s glass off the table to the stone flagging.

“Beg pardon,” he said cheerfully. “There’s many a lip ’twixt the nip and the pip. Sorry, Phil.”

The crash of glass had startled Gallatin, who looked up into Worthington’s face for a possible meaning of the incident, for it was the clumsiest accident that could befall a sober man. But Bibby, his lighted match suspended in mid-air, returned his gaze with one quite calm and unwavering. Gallatin understood, and a dark flush rose under his skin. He was about to speak when Bibby broke in.

“Phil, I’m probably the most awkward person in the[218] world,” he said evenly. “The only thing about me that’s ever in the right place is my heart. Understand?”

If Gallatin had thought of replying, the words were unuttered, for he lowered his head and only muttered a word or two which could not be heard.

Bibby blew the strands of his tousled wig from his eyes and carefully brushed the liquor from his sleeve with his lace handkerchief.

“Sad thing, that,” he said gravely, “vintage, too.”

“Lucky there’s more of it,” said Savage, taking up the bottle. “Hand me one of those glasses on the side table there, Bibby.”

Worthington turned slowly away, looked down at Gallatin and a glance passed between the two men. As Bibby moved off Gallatin took out his case and ha............