As daylight waned it was forced upon Polly’s notice that David was holding himself somewhat apart from the general merrymaking. “I wonder if he is going to mull out the evening,” she mused. “Anyway, he shall have no opportunity to think that I am forlorn on his account.” And she threw herself into the fun with a zest that left little doubt in the minds of her friends that she was not grieving for her lover, whatever might be the trouble between them. The musicians gathered on the broad veranda, the young folks flocked inside. Patricia and a New York guest led the dance. Once Polly and Russell Ely waltzed so close to David, who was standing alone near a window, that Polly’s dress must have brushed him as she passed. “He looks as if he wanted to shoot somebody,” said Russell in an undertone--“probably me,” he added with a tiny smile. “What’s the matter with him, anyhow?” Polly laughed, a little light laugh which she let do duty for an answer. “I used to like David Collins,” Russell went on; “but lately, I can’t understand him.... I thought I’d never tell you; but I believe I will.” “What?” responded Polly. “In a moment.” The music stopped as the two neared an outside door. Russell led his partner to a small balcony, and they sat down. “It is what he said to me a few weeks ago,” he began at once, “and to this hour I cannot think what could have called it out. We met on the street, and he walked up to me and said in the most abrupt way, ‘Ely, I’d rather you would steal money out of my pocket than to do as you are doing!’--I replied, ‘What have I done?’--‘Done!’ he ejaculated, and walked off scowling. I’d give a good deal to know what he meant.” “David is peculiar,” sighed Polly. “All of that,” he returned. “If you’ll excuse my saying it--I don’t want to meddle or give advice where it isn’t desired--I have told myself more than once, ‘If Polly Dudley marries David Collins I am afraid she will rue it.’ From my outlook he is not a man calculated to make any woman happy, least of all one of your make-up. Forgive my candor.” For the girl was silent. A dark figure passed below the balcony, and as the light of a lantern struck across his face they discerned the features of David. “‘Speak of angels...’” quoted Russell with a soft laugh. “You are not offended?” “You are too old a friend to give offense in that way,” said Polly. “I thank you.” “You needn’t. Are you engaged for the next dance?” “Yes, to me,” spoke up a voice outside. Polly started. How much had he overheard? The musicians began another waltz. “I’d better get out of the way,” said Russell in Polly’s ear. “Sorry I can’t have the pleasure--” David Collins leaped the low rail. “Come, Polly!” he said. The girl did not stir as Russell with a pleasant word passed inside. She was thinking hard. “Come!” reiterated David. His voice was stern as he laid his hand on her arm. The motion was one of proprietorship.