strongly to protest that he was really not a bit domestic.

"Have you met any of the people of the place?" she shifted suddenly,

"Well--I really haven't had much chance yet--a few of the men."

"Well--you'll find things pretty mixed. Don't expect much; one has to take
things pretty much as one finds them."

To this simple speech was appended one gesture only--a slight raising of
the eyebrows. Yet the effect was to sweep Keith into the intimacy of an
inner circle, to suggest that she, too, found society mixed, and to imply--
very remotely--that at least certain members of the present company itself
were not quite what he--or she--would choose in another environment. In
unconscious response to this unspoken thought, Keith glanced about the
table. There was a good deal of drinking going on; and the fun was becoming
even more obvious and noisy. Mrs. Morrell occasionally sipped at her
champagne. She emitted a slight but rather disturbing perfume.

"Why did you come out here, anyway?" she asked him. "I can't make out. I'm
curious."

"Why shouldn't I?" demanded Keith.

"Well, men come here either for money, for adventure, or to make a career."
She marked each on the tablecloth with the end of a fork. "Which is it?"

"Guess," laughed Keith.

"You don't need money--or else you have a wonderful nerve to take the Boyle