"I didn't," she said quietly, "I--I--abhorred the very thought of you." Crabb looked contemplatively at his truffle. "I thank you for your candor," he replied at last. Then after a pause, "If you'll forgive me, I'll promise not to mention the subject again." "And if I don't forgive you?" "You're at my mercy for this hour at least," he laughed. "I can still fly to Italy," she replied. "I could forgive you, I think, but for one thing." He looked the question. "This dinner. Is it to chance that I'm indebted for the--the--honor of your society?" Crabb's gaze had dropped to the table, but she had seen just such a sparkle in them once before. Nor when he looked at her had it disappeared. "You mean----" She continued gazing at him steadily. "You mean--did I arrange it?" he asked. Patricia bowed her head. "How could I have done so?" he urged. "Isn't Nick Hollingsworth an intimate friend of yours?" "Yes, but I fail to see----" "Will you deny it?" "I'm afraid you'll have to take me a little on faith," he pleaded. "At any rate you will not suffer long. I'm leaving town in a few days." "For long?" she asked politely. "For good, I think. Won't you let me come in to see you before then?" "Perhaps----" But Mrs. Hollingsworth had cast her glance down the line and drawn back her chair. When the men came down into the drawing room, Mr. Crabb discovered that Miss Wharton had carefully ensconced herself in the center of a perimeter of skirts, which defied disintegration and apportionment. There was music and afterwards a call for carriages. So Mr. Crabb saw no more of Miss Wharton upon that night. Nor, indeed, did Patricia see him again. The following day he called. She was out. Then came a note and some roses. Business had called him sooner than he had expected. He begged to assure her of his distinguished consideration; would she forgive him now that he was gone, accept this new impertinence and forget all those that had gone before? Patricia accepted the impertinence; and for many days it filled her little white room with seductive odors that made his last admonition more difficult. CHAPTER IX The months of winter passed and Crabb returned not. July found the Whartons again at Bar Harbor. Patricia would go out for hours in her canoe or her sailboat, rejoicing with bronzed cheek and hardening muscles in the buffets and caresses of Frenchman's Bay. It was a very tiny catboat that she had learned to manage herself and in which she would tolerate no male hand at the helm except in the stiffest blows.