"Me?" observed Bennett, surprised. He unfolded the paper, glanced at it, and laughed. "I'm arrested for wingin' that 'shoulder-striker' up the street a while back," he told Keith. "Anything I can do?" asked Keith anxiously. "Not a thing, thank you. There'll be no trouble at all--just a little nuisance. May call you for a witness later." He went away with the officer, but shortly after Keith saw him on the street again. The matter had been easily arranged. Keith went to his office. In spite of himself he could not entirely take Bennett's point of view. Several of the men at Eureka headquarters looked interesting--he would like to know them--perhaps more than interesting, the potentiality of a reasoning and directed power. XVII The afternoon nap suggested by Mrs. Morrell was not enjoyed, and Keith returned home feeling pretty tired and inclined to a quiet evening. Nan had to remind him of his engagement. "Oh, let's send a note over by Wing," he said, a little crossly. "I don't feel like making an effort to-night." But Nan's convention could not approve of anything quite so radically a last-minute decision. "It's a little late in the day for that," she pointed out. "She may have stayed in just to see us. We can leave early." Keith went, grumbling. They found Mrs. Morrell in full evening dress, showing her neck and shoulders, which were her best points, for she was full bosomed and rounded without losing firmness of flesh. Nan was a trifle taken back at this gorgeousness, for she had not dressed. Keith, with his usual directness, made no secret of pretending to be utterly overwhelmed. "I didn't know we were expected to dress for a real concert with flowers!" he cried, laughing. Mrs. Morrell shrugged her fine shoulders indifferently. "This old rag!" she said. "Don't let that bother you. I always like to put on something cool for the evening. It's such a relief." It developed that Morrell had an engagement, and could not stay. "He was so disappointed," purred Mrs. Morrell. She was all eager for the music, brushing aside this and other preliminaries. "You play, sing?" she asked Nan. "What a pity! I'm afraid you're going to be terribly bored." She turned instantly to Keith, hurrying him to the piano, giving the impression of being too eager to wait--almost the eagerness of a drunkard in the presence of drink. And this in turn conveyed a vibrating feeling of magnetism, of temperament under restraint, of possibilities veiled. The impact struck Keith's responsive nature full. He waked up, approached the piano with reviving interest. She struck idle chords and flashed at him over her shoulder a brilliant smile. "What shall it be?" she demanded, still with the undercurrent of eagerness. "You choose--a man's song--something soulful. I'm just in the mood." "Do you know the 'Bedouin Love Song?'" he inquired. "The 'Bedouin Love Song?' No--I'm afraid not. We are so far out of the world." "It's a new thing. It goes like this."