Again her daring truthfulness took away his breath. She had discovered something so latent in his mind that he hadn’t owned it to himself. He _was_ jealous of Fluffy--just as jealous as if she had been a man. He resented her power to whisk Desire from his side. He dreaded lest she had occupied so much of the girl’s capacity for loving that nothing worth having was left He suspected that the use of powder, the trivial views of marriage, the passion to go upon the stage were all results of her influence. It wasn’t natural that a girl of twenty should focus all her dreams on an older woman. She should be picturing the arrival of Prince Charming, of a home and the graciousness of little children. Desire lifted to him a face grown magically free from cloud. “That wasn’t at all nice of me--not one bit ladylike. After all, I am your guest.” Did she say it out of sweet revenge? It was as though she had told him, “I keep my friendships in separate watertight compartments. To-day it’s your turn to be taken but. To-morrow I shall lock you away and remember some one else.” It hurt, this polite intimation of his standing. He wanted to be everything to her--to feel all that she felt, to know her as his very self. To him she was his entire life. And she--she was satisfied to term herself his guest. She led the way as they entered the grill-room. Heads were turned and glances exchanged, in the usual tribute to her beauty. The orchestra was still madly twanging. Between tables in the centre, a space had been cleared that two paid artistes might give exhibitions of the latest dance-steps. When they rested, the diners took their places and did their best to copy their example. Doors and windows were open. In lulls, while the musicians mopped their foreheads, the better music drifted in of waves breaking and the long sigh of receding surge. They took their seats in a sunlit corner, a little retired, to which they were piloted by a discreet and perspiring waiter. As Desire examined the mena he inquired, “What will madam have?” To every order that she gave he murmured, “Yes, madam. Certainly, madam.” When he had left, she glanced mischievously across at Teddy. “Why did he call me that?” She knew the answer, but it amused her to embarrass him. “Because--obviously, he thought we were married.” “Married!” She was pulling off her gloves. “I shan’t be married for ages--perhaps never. I expect he thought we were married because we looked so separate--so uninterested.”