"I _was_ talking commonplaces," he admitted, "but how was I to know enough not to? Women are usually soulfully receptive when a painter opens a tin of mouldy axioms.... I didn't realise I was encountering my peer----" "You may be encountering more than that," she said, the excitement of her success with him flushing her adorably. "Oh, I've heard how terribly educated you and Scott are. No doubt you can floor me on anything intellectual. See here, Geraldine, it's simply wicked!--you are so soft and pretty, and nobody could suspect you of knowing such a lot and pouncing out on a fellow for trying a few predigested platitudes on you----" "I _don't_ know _anything_, Duane! How perfectly horrid of you!" "Well, you've scared me!" "I haven't. You're laughing at me. You know well enough that I don't know the things you know." "What are they, in Heaven's name?" "Things--experiences--matters that concern life--the world, men, everything!" "You wouldn't be interesting if you knew such things," he said. She thought there was the same curious hint of indifference, something of listlessness, almost fatigue in the expression of his eyes. And again, apparently apropos of nothing, she found herself thinking of what Kathleen had said about this man. "I don't understand you," she said, looking at him. He smiled, and the ghost of a shadow passed from his eyes. "I was talking at random." "I don't think you were." "Why not?" She shook her head, drawing a long, quiet breath. Silent, lips resting in softly troubled curves, she thought of what Kathleen had said about this man. _What_ had he done to disgrace himself? A few moments later she rose with decision. "Come," she said, unconsciously imperious. He looked across the room and saw Dysart. "But I haven't begun to tell you--" he began; and she interrupted smilingly: "I know enough about you for a while; I have learned that you are a very wonderful young man and that I'm inclined to like you. You will come to see me, won't you?... No, I can't remain here another second. I want to go to Kathleen. I want you to ask her to dance, too.... Please don't urge me, Duane. I--this is my first dinner dance--yes, my very first. And I _don't_ intend to sit in corners--I wish to dance; I desire to be happy. I want to see lots and lots of men, not just one.... You don't know all the lonely years I must make up for every minute now, or you wouldn't look at me in such a sulky, bullying way.... Besides--do you think I find you a compensation for all those delightful people out yonder?" He glanced up and saw Dysart still watching them. Suddenly he dropped his hand over hers. "Perhaps you may find that compensation in me some day," he said. "How do you know?" "What a silly thing to say! Don't paw me, Duane; you hurt my hand. Look at what you've done to my fan!" "It came between us. I'm sorry for anything that comes between us."