"Betty is making no end of a row," Max said, looking up from his game,

"because the old lady upstairs insists on chloroform liniment. Betty

says the smell makes her ill."

"And she can inhale Russian cigarettes," Anne said enviously, "and

gasolene fumes, without turning a hair. I call a revoke, Dal; you

trumped spades on the second round."

Dal flung over three tricks with very bad grace, and Anne counted them

with maddening deliberation.

"Game and rubber," she said. "Watch Dal, Max; he will cheat in the score

if he can. Kit, don't have another clam while I am in this house. I have

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eaten so many lately my waist rises and falls with the tide."

"You have a stunning color, Kit," Lollie said. "You are really quite

superb. Who made that gown?"

"Where have you been hiding, du kleine?" Max whispered, under cover of

showing me the evening paper, with a photograph of the house and a cross

at the cellar window where we had tried to escape. "If one day in the

house with you, Kit, puts me in this condition, what will a month do?"

From beyond the curtain of a sort of alcove, lighted with a red-shaded

lamp, came a hum of conversation, Bella's cool, even tones, and a heavy

masculine voice. They were laughing; I could feel my chin go up. He was

not even hiding his shame.

"Max," I asked, while the others clamored for him and the game, "has any

one been up through the house since dinner? Any of the men?"

He looked at me curiously.

"Only Harbison," he replied promptly. "Jim has been eating his heart

out in the den every since dinner; Dal played the Sonata Appasionata

backward on the pianola--he wanted to put through one of Anne's lingerie

waists, on a wager that it would play a tune; I played craps with

Lollie, and Flannigan has been washing dishes. Why?"

Well, that was conclusive, anyhow. I had had a faint hope that it might

have been a joke, although it had borne all the evidences of sincerity,

certainly. But it was past doubting now; he had lain in wait for me at

the landing, and had kissed me, ME, when he thought I was Jimmy's wife.

Oh, I must have been very light, very contemptible, if that was what he

thought of me!

I went into the library and got a book, but it was impossible to read,

with Jimmy lying on the couch giving vent to something between a sigh

and a groan every few minutes. About eleven the cards stopped, and Bella

said she would read palms. She began with Mr. Harbison, because she

declared he had a wonderful hand, full of possibilities; she said he

should have been a great inventor or a playwright, and that his attitude

to women was one of homage, respect, almost reverence. He had the

courage to look at me, and if a glance could have killed he would have

withered away.