Marion herself met him in the hall, and led him past the drawing-room

door.

"There are people in every room who want to be left alone," she

volunteered. "I kept the library as long as I could. We can sit on the

stairs, if you like."

Which they proceeded to do, quite amiably. From various open doors came

subdued voices. The air was pungent with tobacco smoke permeated with a

faint scent of late afternoon highballs.

"Tommy!" Marion called, when she had settled herself.

"Yes," from a distance.

"Did you leave your cigaret on the piano?"

"No, Toots dear. But I can, easily."

"Mother," Marion explained, "is getting awfully touchy about the piano.

Well, do you remember half the pretty things you told me last night?"

"Not exactly. But I meant them."

He looked up at her admiringly. He was only a year from college, and

he had been rather arbitrarily limited to the debutantes. He found,

therefore, something rather flattering in the attention he was receiving

from a girl who had been out five years, and who was easily the most

popular young woman in the gayer set. It gave him a sense of maturity

Since the night before he had been rankling under a sense of youth.

"Was I pretty awful last night?" he asked.

"You were very interesting. And--I imagine--rather indiscreet."

"Fine! What did I say?"

"You boasted, my dear young friend."

"Great Scott! I must have been awful."

"About the new war contracts."

"Oh, business!"

"But I found it very interesting. You know, I like business. And I like

big figures. Poor people always do. Has it really gone through? I mean,

those things do slip up sometimes, don't they.

"It's gone through, all right. Signed, sealed, and delivered."

Encouraged by her interest, he elaborated on the new work. He even

developed an enthusiasm for it, to his own surprise. And the girl

listened intently, leaning forward so that her arm brushed his shoulder.

Her eyes, slightly narrowed, watched him closely. She knew every move of

the game she was determining to play.

Marion Hayden, at twenty-five, knew already what her little world had

not yet realized, that such beauty as she had had was the beauty of

youth only, and that that was going. Late hours, golf, perhaps a little

more champagne than was necessary at dinners, and the mornings found her

almost plain. And, too, she had the far vision of the calculating mind.

She knew that if the country entered the war, every eligible man she

knew would immediately volunteer.




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