He did come in, but with manifest reluctance, and he stayed near the door in an attitude of arrested departure. "It's pretty late," he protested with a nonchalance that rang a little flat. "You must be awfully tired. Hadn't we better put off our pow-wow?" She understood well enough. The look in her face, some uncontrolled inflection in the voice she had meant to keep so even, had given her away. He suspected she was going to be "tragic." If he didn't look out, there'd be a "scene." "We can't put it off," she said. "I let you have your talk out with the Lakes, but you'll have to talk with me now." "We spent most of the time talking about you, anyway," he said pleasantly. "They're both mad about you. Barry says you've got a fine mind." She laughed at that, a little raggedly. Whereupon Rodney looked hurt and protested against this imputation of insincerity against his friend. "When you know him better," he said, "you will see he couldn't say a thing like that unless he meant it." "Oh, he meant it, all right," said Rose. And she added incomprehensibly, "It isn't his fault, of course. It's just the way the world's made." She had been in good looks to-night, she knew; hurt, humiliated, confronted with a crisis, she had rallied her powers just as she had done at the Randolphs' dinner. She had been aware of the color in her cheeks, the brightness in her eyes, the edge to her voice. Each of the two men had responded to the effect she produced. Barry had talked with her all the last part of the evening--brilliantly, eagerly, and had come away saying she had a fine mind. Her husband had come across to her and put his hand on her bare shoulder. And the two of them had responded to an identical impulse, although they translated it so differently--one over the long circuit, the other over the short. Lacking the clue, Rodney, of course, didn't understand. The look in Rose's eyes softened suddenly. "Don't mind, dear;" she said. "I'm truly glad if they liked me. It will make things a lot easier." At that his eyes lighted up. "Do you seriously think any one could resist you, you darling?" he said. "You were a perfect miracle to-night, when they were here. But now, like this ..." He came over to her with his arms out. But she cried out "Don't!" and sprang away from him. "Please don't, Roddy--not to-night! I can't stand it to have you touch me to-night!" He stared at her, gave a shrug of exasperation, and then turned away. "You _are_ angry about something then," he said. "I thought so when I first came in. But I honestly don't know what it's about."