“They won’t be home for two hours yet—later probably. Elsie came in to ask me to go with them and I made her promise to say I was out. Then Polly came in and called up two of her admirers and they were all to meet on the Boardwalk—go to supper after the movie. Getting into the house without running into them may be the problem——” “I left the library window open.” She stole a glance at him as he sat beside her in the car. The set grimness had returned to his face and his eyes looked more gray than blue. No doubt he regretted proposing anything so ridiculous; also, his conscience hurt him, probably. Wonder he hadn’t telephoned off. They reached the edge of the broadest expanse of the salt-water marsh lands. It was as cold and desolate as the moon that silvered it, and looked as remote from Atlantic City, blaring and flashing a few miles away, as if it had swung off into space. Geoffrey removed his ulster and locked it with his cap in the car. He wore a white woolen sweater and an old pair of corduroy breeches. “I used to know these meadows like a map,” he said, as he rowed with sure strokes through one of the winding narrow channels. “I’d come here to think out my problems, and generally at night.” Gita drew her cape about her and looked out over the marsh, sniffing the salt air. A sensation of peace descended upon her. She loved color and movement and brilliance, but she also loved cold austere beauty, low tones, hard outlines, white landscapes in winter. This marsh was starkly beautiful. Far in the distance was the black mass of a pine wood. As quiet as death. Only once a train roared over a bridge. She looked at Pelham. He was smiling; his face was as boyish as when he had flown into a temper, but charmingly pleasant. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come,” he said frankly. “But we’re here, and I’ll leave remorse for tomorrow. You may tell Eustace if you like——” “I certainly shall not. I may fly to the moon with a man if I choose. If he were still in danger I shouldn’t have come, of course—you wouldn’t have proposed it. But I came out to enjoy myself and I don’t intend to split hairs.” “You’re rather a pagan, you know.” “Perhaps. Seems to me we’re all pagans these days. Except you. _You’re_ rather old-fashioned.” “I expect to remain so. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t be anywhere else. We needn’t talk at all, if you’d rather not. It is enough for me——” “You asked me out to ‘have a talk,’” she said mischievously. “I’m only too ready to listen to anything you may have to tell me.” But Gita had no intention of telling anything. She had once obeyed an egotistical impulse and the present mess was the result.