And when they were alone he went close to George eagerly. "No need to wait for Betty and Lambert, Morton. It's done. Dolly's got himself thrown over----" "I don't believe you," George said. "Why not?" "What are you doing here?" George asked. "It was understood you should avoid her." Dalrymple's grin was sickly. "Way she's tearing around now I'd have exactly no place to go." "You seemed rather too friendly," George pointed out, "for parties to a broken engagement." George fancied there was something of anger in the other's face. "Must say I'm not flattered by that. Guess you were right. One heart's not smashed, anyway." George turned on his heel. Dalrymple caught him. "What about those notes?" "I don't trust you, Dalrymple. I'll keep my eye on you yet awhile." "Ask Sylvia if you want," Dalrymple cried. George smiled. "I wonder if I could." He went to his room, trying to believe Dalrymple. Was that romance really in the same class as the one with Blodgett? If so, why did she involve herself in restive affairs with less obvious men? As best he could he tried to find out that night when she was a little off guard because of some unquiet statements she had just made of Russian rumours. "You don't mean those things," he said, "or else you've no idea what they mean." Through her quick resentment she let herself be caught in a corner, as it were. Everyone was preparing to leave the house for a dance in benefit of some local charity. Momentarily they were left alone. He indicated the over-luxurious and rather tasteless room. "You're asking for the confiscation of all this, and your own Oakmont, and every delightful setting to which you've been accustomed all your life. You're asking for rationed food; for a shakedown, maybe, in a garret. You're asking for a task in a kitchen or a field. Why not a negro's kitchen; a Chinaman's field?" He looked at her, asking gravely: "Do you quite understand the principles of communism as they affect women?" He fancied a heightening of her colour. "You of all men," she said, "ought to understand the strivings of the people." He shook his head vehemently. "I'm for the palace," he laughed, "and I fancy it means more to me than it could to a man who's never used his brain. Let those stay in the hovel who haven't the courage to climb out." "And you're one of the people!" she murmured. "One of the people!" "You don't say that," he answered, quickly, "to tell me it makes me admirable in your eyes. You say it to hurt, as you used to call me, 'groom'. It doesn't inflict the least pain." There was no question about her flush now. "Tell me," he urged, "why you permit your brain such inconsistencies, why you accept such a patent fad, why you need fads at all?" "Why won't you leave me alone?" she asked, harshly. "You're always asking that," he smiled, "and you see I never do. Why are you unlike these other women? Why did you turn to Blodgett? Why have you made a fool of Dalrymple?"