"Why not? It didn't hurt them. Either they did or they didn't at the pinch--when you returned and looked for countenance. Some were timid about granting it, but granted it; others granted it straightway." "Like you and Montague and Burgoyne!" Stephanie exclaimed. "The others were only a bit shy, my dear. They all believed in you, you may be certain of that. Most of them didn't feel sure how their overtures would be received--and _you_ didn't give them much help. You were as hard as flint and as cold as an iceberg." "Because I thought everyone would pass me by. My experience at the Club that first afternoon didn't augur well for me--except with Montague and Burgoyne. Then _you_ were--just the same, and the skies brightened." "And now you're clouding them again by this foolish fear of Porshinger," said Gladys. "Let alone! Don't you know the old maxim: 'Never trouble trouble till trouble troubles you.'" "My dear Gladys, don't you think that I have troubled trouble sufficiently to want a brief intermission?" "Of course you have!" sympathized Gladys. "And to be entitled to it?" "I should say so." "Then why should I borrow trouble unless I had a presentiment of it impending? However, it hasn't cast me down, and it's not going to cast me down. Neither shall I refer to it to anyone, not even to Montague--until I must--and I hope that I shall never must." She kissed Gladys good-night and walked to the door. "Maybe my dinner didn't quite agree with me!" she laughed--"though I'm not usually troubled that way." "Wouldn't you better consider telling Montague?" Gladys urged. "No--well, I'll think over it to-night. Sleep is a great clarifier." "If you can sleep there isn't much the matter with your digestion, nor with your Porshinger worry," Gladys called after her as the door closed. Stephanie did not take her walk the next morning. It was raining heavily, and when the men drove off she waved a farewell to Pendleton, who had glanced up at her window, and went back to bed. Pendleton caught the flash of a white arm and raised his hat; but when the others followed his look there were only the closed curtains to greet them. "I wish you wouldn't do that, Monte," said Devereux. "What?" Pendleton asked. "Take to yourself what isn't meant for you--that farewell was for me." "Go back, Dev, and get it--or another," recommended Burgoyne. "I'll do it----" "You'll go to the station first," interposed Cameron. "We have no mind to miss our train." "Oh, very well!" said Devereux, sinking back. "As you will, Malvolio--I'll return anon, or next week." "If you're asked!" smiled Pendleton. "A timely provision, monsieur--we may none of us be asked--particularly as we weren't much pleased with having Porshinger rung in on us." "Oh, damn Porshinger!" said Cameron quietly. "What got into Gladys, do you suppose?" "We will delegate you to investigate, Dev," remarked Burgoyne. "You want an excuse for returning."