"You're good, Dickie," she said softly; "much too good for this world. I'm sorry for you, because it earns you so many buffetings." "And you think I'm in for another on Jeffard's account." "I am sure you are--now. The last time I saw him he wore a mask; a horrible mask of willful degradation and cynicism and self-loathing; but I saw behind it." They were making a slow circuit of the ballroom in search of Connie's cousin, and the throng and the music isolated them. "What did you see?" "I saw the making of a strong man; strong for good or for evil; a man who could compel the world-attitudes that most of us have to sue for, or who would be strong enough on the evil side to flout and ignore them. I thought then that he was at the parting of the ways, but it seems I was mistaken,--that the real balancing moment came with what poppa calls the 'high-mountain bribe,'--Satan's offer of the kingdoms of this world and the glory of them." Now, a thronged ballroom is scarcely a fit place for heart-to-heart outreachings; but there be loyal hearts who are not constrained by their encompassments, and Bartrow was of that brotherhood. They had attained a corner where one might swing a short-sword without fear of beheading the nearest of the dancers or out-sitters, and he faced about and took both of Connie's hands in his. "Do you know, little sister, I'm awfully glad you're able to talk that way about him. There was a time when I began to be afraid--for your sake first, and afterward for"-- It is conceivable that the frankest of young women may have some reserves of time and place, if not of subjects, and before honest Dick could finish, Constance had freed herself and was reproaching young Calmaine for not seeking her out for the dance in process,--which was his. Teddy's apology had in it the flavor of long acquaintance and the insolence thereof. "You're a cool one," he said, when they had left Bartrow behind. "As if I didn't stand for five good minutes at the door of that conservatory place, with you eye-pistoling and daggering me to make me go away!" Thinking about it afterward, Bartrow wondered a little that Connie seemed bent on ignoring him through the remainder of the functional hours, large and small, but so it was. And when finally he was constrained to put Miss Van Vetter in the carriage, Connie's good-night and good-by were of the briefest. Miss Van Vetter, too, was silent on the homeward drive, and this Connie remarked, charging it openly to Dick's account when they were before the fire in Myra's room contemplating the necessity of going to bed. "No, Mr. Bartrow was all that the most exacting person could demand,--and more," said Miss Van Vetter, going to the mirror to begin the relaxing process. "It was something he told me." "About Mr. Jeffard?" "Yes; how did you know?" "I didn't know--I guessed." "Isn't it dreadful!" "No. Some of the other things he did might have been that; but this is unspeakable."