Judith listened to the conclusion of a waltz, then to the chatter on the veranda--until it was drawn back again into the ballroom by the less rhythmic measure of a square dance. Then she crept down, went quickly through the hall and out to the veranda. Baird was there, waiting for her. He sprang up from a bench. "I hoped you'd come!" he said. "I didn't like to go in and ask for you." They stood for a moment. "Have you been enjoying yourself?" Judith asked. "No, you didn't come back." Judith laughed softly. "You are not polite to my party, suh." "Never mind." He touched her bare arm. "Where can I get something to put around you?" "My cape is in the hall--behind the stairs--and my overshoes.... It is so warm--we might go down to the walk." "Down to the terraces," Baird said with the quickness of the man alert to every advantage. Possibly Judith had the terraces in mind, but she demurred. "Oh, no--the ground is too damp." Baird's answer was to dive into the hall. When he came out he had Judith's cape on his arm and a pair of overshoes in each hand. He held up the larger pair. "I've jumped some one's claim!... Think any one will want these before we get back?" "They'll certainly not guess where to look for them.... You know how to surmount a difficulty, don't you?" She had planned for this adventure, and her cheeks were warm. "By helping myself to some one else's belongings--if there is no other way.... Sit down and let me make sure you will be dry." Baird had also planned for an hour on the terraces, and was elated. He knelt and put on Judith's overshoes with much care, a caressing clasp for each foot before he planted it on the floor. "They are so small," he said. "There are not many women whose feet are kissable." Then dashed by his temerity, he added quickly, "You must descend on me if I talk--nonsense. I am apt to be forward--I need training badly. I'm in your hands, you know." Judith thought, as she looked down at his massive jaw with its suggestion of animal force, that undoubtedly he spoke from much predatory experience; his air of deference sat oddly on him; he was most attractive when presumptuous. Her reflections caused her a pang. Retrospective jealousy over affairs that were none of her concern? She shrugged mentally. She was foolish! For the first time in her life she was deliberately tampering with forces which she knew were dangerous. She thought it best to say gravely, "You are a little--assured, Mr. Baird." "I'm afraid I am," he assented ruefully; then added with native shrewdness and candor combined, "I suppose because I've usually found it paid." "I suppose it does--with some people," Judith returned with instant hauteur. She was glad he could not see her flush. Baird got to his feet. "May I help you with your cape?" he asked so humbly that the prick of his previous remark ceased to smart. Why take offense at his candor; his respect for her was apparent enough.