"Why, Paula----" "Why, this is wonderful. I can't believe it, _Anson_!" She took both his hands, and he saw in the freedom of the gesture that the memory of him had lost poignancy to her. But not to him--he felt that old mood that she evoked in him stealing over his brain, that gentleness with which he had always met her optimism as if afraid to mar its surface. "We're at Rye for the summer. Pete had to come East on business--you know of course I'm Mrs. Peter Hagerty now--so we brought the children and took a house. You've got to come out and see us." "Can I?" he asked directly. "When?" "When you like. Here's Pete." The revolving door functioned, giving up a fine tall man of thirty with a tanned face and a trim mustache. His immaculate fitness made a sharp contrast with Anson's increasing bulk, which was obvious under the faintly tight cut-away coat. "You oughtn't to be standing," said Hagerty to his wife. "Let's sit down here." He indicated lobby chairs, but Paula hesitated. "I've got to go right home," she said. "Anson, why don't you--why don't you come out and have dinner with us to-night? We're just getting settled, but if you can stand that----" Hagerty confirmed the invitation cordially. "Come out for the night." Their car waited in front of the hotel, and Paula with a tired gesture sank back against silk cushions in the corner. "There's so much I want to talk to you about," she said, "it seems hopeless." "I want to hear about you." "Well"--she smiled at Hagerty--"that would take a long time too. I have three children--by my first marriage. The oldest is five, then four, then three." She smiled again. "I didn't waste much time having them, did I?" "Boys?" "A boy and two girls. Then--oh, a lot of things happened, and I got a divorce in Paris a year ago and married Pete. That's all--except that I'm awfully happy." In Rye they drove up to a large house near the Beach Club, from which there issued presently three dark, slim children who broke from an English governess and approached them with an esoteric cry. Abstractedly and with difficulty Paula took each one into her arms, a caress which they accepted stiffly, as they had evidently been told not to bump into Mummy. Even against their fresh faces Paula's skin showed scarcely any weariness--for all her physical languor she seemed younger than when he had last seen her at Palm Beach seven years ago. At dinner she was preoccupied, and afterward, during the homage to the radio, she lay with closed eyes on the sofa, until Anson wondered if his presence at this time were not an intrusion. But at nine o'clock, when Hagerty rose and said pleasantly that he was going to leave them by themselves for a while, she began to talk slowly about herself and the past.