"I like a manly man, not a combination of a man and a harlequin," said Stephanie. "A man like Mr. Chamberlain or--you, Montague," with a tantalizing smile from under her lowered lids. "Don't tempt me!" he warned.--"Don't tempt me!" "It is perfectly safe to tempt you--_here_." "It may not be on the piazza." "The temptation _passes_ when we leave this room," she enjoined. "I am not so sure," he threatened. The hostess arose. "Does it pass?" Stephanie asked. He only smiled, and drew out her chair. "Does it pass?" she repeated as she faced him. His only answer was another smile. "Very well, sir; I'll not go on the piazza with you until you acquiesce--and neither will I arrange that we are quite alone, as I had intended." "You win!" he laughed. "The temptation passes--for to-night." Half an hour later, the coffee finished, Mrs. Lorraine arose and went into the house. Presently a servant very quietly summoned Pendleton to the telephone. Stephanie was on the landing when he entered the hall, and she met him at the foot of the stairs. "I'm the telephone," she remarked. "I had hoped so," he smiled. "Where shall we go?" "On the side piazza, where the lights are not burning." He held back the portieres, and they went through the library and out into the star-light night, where the silver crescent of the moon was cutting its way toward the western horizon. All was still save for the faint hum of voices at the front and occasional laughter. "It's a perfect night!" she breathed. "How much better the country is for one than the dirt and noise and bustle of the big town. The peace and calm--the _dolce far niente_ of it all--is very, very restful." "It's the place for women who don't have to work--and the men who can afford not to," he said. "Everyone is gravitating toward the country--the pure air, the pure water--the simple life that is not quite so simple as it once was." "But it's simpler than town life--heaps simpler," as she led the way to a remote corner, where two chairs stood apart. She took one.--He drew the other close over, and sitting on the arm reached down and took her hand. "You said the temptation passed," she admonished--while suffering it to remain. "This isn't temptation--it's admiration, adoration----" "Flirtation!" she laughed. "Whatever it is, it _isn't_ flirtation," he said. "You know that, don't you, Stephanie?" She gave him a fleeting look. "Yes, Montague, I know that," she answered softly--and quietly withdrew her hand. "Now sit down and let me tell you what it is I want you to agree to--we haven't much time, you know. Devereux will be on our trail if we're absent too long." He whirled the chair around and sat down--then calmly leaned forward and, in a masterful matter-of-fact way, took possession of both her hands. "Will that make you more amenable?" she laughed softly, yielding them to him. "I'll agree to anything you wish, _now_," he responded. "But it's not exactly right, Montague," she protested.