Irene Hardy found herself in a position of increasing delicacy. Since the day of their conversation in the tea-room Dave had been constant in his attentions, but, true to his ultimatum, had uttered no word that could in any way be construed to be more or less than Platonic. His attitude vexed and pleased her. She was vexed that he should leave her in a position where she must humiliate herself by taking the initiative; she was pleased with his strength, with his daring, with the superb self-control with which he carried out a difficult purpose. Just how difficult was that purpose Irene was now experiencing in her own person. She had now no doubt that she felt for Dave that attachment without which ceremonies are without avail, and with which ceremonies are but ceremonies. And yet she shrank from surrender. . . . And she knew that some day she must surrender. The situation was complicated by conditions which involved her mother--and Conward. Mrs. Hardy had never allowed herself to become reconciled to Dave Elden. She refused to abandon her preconceived ideas of the vulgarity which through life must accompany one born to the lowly status of cow puncher. The fact that Dave, neither in manner nor mind, gave any hint of that vulgarity which she chose to associate with his early occupation, did not in the least ameliorate her aversion. Mrs. Hardy, without knowing it, was as much a devotee of caste as any Oriental. And Dave was born out of the caste. Nothing could alter that fact. His assumption of the manners of a gentleman merely aggravated his offence.