Porshinger, on his part, had sunk his desire for vengeance into his desire for Stephanie. He could not understand a woman with her flagrant past except on one hypothesis--and he was willing to forget Pendleton's recent attack if he could supplant him in her affections. He had no possible doubt that Pendleton had taken Amherst's place--and he aimed to displace Pendleton. That a woman could make one bad step and then right herself beyond even the possibility of making another was, to his mind, utterly absurd. And the last few weeks had but confirmed him--she was playing him, to be sure, but coming closer every day, until he had only to put out his hand and take her. He had put out his hand last night at Croydens', but something had gone wrong. He had been a trifle premature--possibly because he did not quite understand these society women's ways. However, it was only a question of a little time. He would pluck the fruit eventually, of that he had no doubt. Stephanie was not really angry--only piqued at his awkwardness and want of appreciation of the proper situation. He would show her that he did not mind a temporary rebuff, would, in fact, disregard it entirely. If she was inclined to punish him a trifle, she should have her way. Money was king in the end--and money would win. Her present conduct--this leaving him without a word, but with an ignoring look, was somewhat disconcerting and altogether unexpected. However, he assumed it was simply another exhibition of a society woman's seeming reluctance to yield, and the desire to make her conquest worth while. Yes, it _was_ a trifle disconcerting. He was at a loss what to say, because he did not know how much, if anything, Stephanie had told of their quarrel. He glanced covertly at Pendleton--Pendleton was smoking and looking dreamily up at the sky. "My idea of a foursome didn't seem to take well with the ladies," he adventured. "No, didn't seem to," Pendleton answered dryly. "Do you think Mrs. Lorraine and Miss Chamberlain are coming back?" Pendleton's patience was fast slipping its moorings. "Judging from Mrs. Lorraine's manner, I should say _she_ was not----so long as you are here," he replied. Porshinger refused to take offence. "I thought so myself!" he chuckled. "Have a drink, Pendleton?" "No, thank you!" Pendleton declined sharply. "Do you mind if I have one?" "Not in the least." "Do you mind if I stay here?" Pendleton blew smoke rings and made no reply. "From which I might infer--a number of things," Porshinger laughed. "But I won't. I had one quarrel with a pretty woman over nothing last evening; I'm not going to have another quarrel with a good fellow this afternoon." It was evident to Pendleton that Porshinger never suspected that Stephanie had told more than the simple fact of their quarrel, or else he was trying to draw him out so as to know what story he had to meet and overcome. Just then Dolittle's voice came around the corner.