She stood considering, her crook’d finger under her chin, blue eyes taking his measure from time to time. Evidently happiness too long deferred had made him unmanageable. She never thought of doubting her power. Probably he needed discipline. It was most annoying to be annoyed at such a time, with all these men here, and Scott Wallace already left too long alone with Diana at the billiard table. Discipline was certainly what Inwood needed. "Billy," she said, "come in and play bottle pool." "Am I to tell them that we are to be married?" "No," she said petulantly. "When may I tell them?" "Not at all. Do you think a year of liberty is sufficient for a woman who has suffered what I have? I don’t wish to marry you or anybody—yet. I haven’t made up my mind to do it at all," she added with a tiny flash of rare anger, for her not very sensitive nerves were beginning to feel the pressure. "Lillian, I want to know now. It is only square to me to——" "Billy, if you continue to insist, you will end by seriously offending me. You have annoyed me enough already." "By asking you to set a definite date for our impending marriage?" "It is _not_ impending!" she retorted, exasperated, as Diana and Wallace came out together and walked toward the farther end of the terrace. "Do you refuse to marry me?" "Yes, I do; I am sorry. I really cannot help how you feel about it. This year of liberty has been a year of happiness. I don’t wish to marry. I don’t know when I may wish to. I am perfectly contented; and that’s the truth, Billy." "So—you refuse me?" "For the present—yes." "No; you must answer me for all time, to-night." She nodded. "Very well, then; I refuse definitely—and for all time.... And, Billy Inwood, you have brought this calamity upon yourself." But Lillian’s anger was always short-lived; she was already sorry for him. Besides, she was convinced that he would continue to dangle. It had been her experience with men that they were never reconciled to the unobtainable. So with one of her swift, smiling changes of feeling she held out her hand to Inwood. He took it. "Are you very angry?" she asked. "No." "Do we part—friends?" "We do, indeed," he said so sincerely that the smile faded on her face, and into her limited mind flickered a momentary doubt. But, no, it was not possible; for Lillian had never really been able to doubt herself. Certain, once more, that this young man would appear at heel when whistled for, she returned his friendly pressure with an encouraging one, laughed, and turned lightly toward the house. He accompanied her to the door and bowed her in. Then the strength seemed to ooze out of his back and legs; he dropped on to a marble bench, and sat there in the moonlight, his face buried in his hands. How long he had been there he did not know, when a light touch and a soft voice close to his ear aroused him, and, looking up, he saw Diana inspecting him.