Suddenly, as she stood there, she heard him come in;--heard the astonished and joyous exclamations--Cecil's bantering, cynical voice, Welter's loud welcome. She pressed both hands to her hot cheeks, stared at herself a moment, then turned and walked leisurely toward the living-room. In her heart a voice was crying, crying: "Let the world see so that there may be no mistake! This man who was friendless is my friend. Let there be no mistake that he is more or less than that." But she only said with a quick smile, and offering her hand: "I am so glad to see you, Clive. I am so glad you came." And stood, still smiling, looking into the lean, sun-tanned face, under the concentrated eyes of her friends around them both. For a second it was difficult for him to speak; but only she saw the slight quiver of the mouth. "You are--quite the same," he said; "no more beautiful, no less. Time is not the essence of your contract with Venus." "Oh, Clive! And I am twenty-four! Tell me--_are_ you a trifle grey!--just above the temples?--or is it the light?" "He's grey," said Cecil; "don't flatter him, Athalie. And Oh, Lord, what a thinness!" Peggy Brooks, professionally curious, said naively: "Are you still rather full of bacilli, Mr. Bailey? And would you mind if I took a drop of blood from you some day?" "Not at all," said Clive, laughing away the strain that still fettered his speech a little. "You may have quarts if you like, Dr. Brooks." "How was the shooting?" inquired Welter, bustling up like a judge at a bench-show when the awards are applauded. "Oh--there was shooting--of course," said Clive with an involuntary and half-humorous glance at Captain Dane. "Good nigger hunting," nodded Dane. "Unknown angles, Welter. You ought to run down there." "Any incomparable Indian maidens wearing nothing but ornaments of gold?" inquired Cecil. "That is partly true," said Clive, laughing. "If you put a period after 'nothing,' I suppose," suggested Peggy. "About that." He turned to Athalie; but her silent, smiling gaze confused him so that he forgot what he had meant to say, and stood without a word amid the chatter that rose and ebbed about him. Anne Randolph and Arthur Ensart had joined hands, their restless feet sketching the first steps of the Miraflores; and presently somebody cranked the machine. "Come on!" said Peggy imperiously to Dane; "you've been too long in the jungle dancing with Indian maidens!" Other people dropped in--Adele Millis, young Grismer, John Lyndhurst, Jeanne Delauny. When Clive saw Rosalie Faithorn saunter in with James Allys he stared, but that young seceder from his own set greeted him without embarrassment and lighted a cigarette. "Where's Winifred?" she asked nonchalantly. "Still on the outs? Yes? Why not shuffle and draw again? Winifred was always a pig." Clive flushed at the girl's frankness although he could have expected nothing less from her.