secret intimacy, growing daily dearer and more dangerous, could not be
confessed. Crowder had been mentor as well as friend and she feared not
only his curiosity but his disapproval. He would argue, plead, interfere.
She disliked what she had to say, and as she righted herself, comb in
hand, her face was flushed.

"Yes, a chap from the East. He just admired from afar and went his way."

"Oh, he's gone." Crowder was satisfied. "Seen your father lately?"

"No, but I had a letter to say he'd be down soon."

The color in her face deepened. She knew that her father would ask even
more searching questions than Crowder and she was prepared to lie to him.
Biting her lip at the thought, she looked down the long spray of lashes
defined on her cheeks. Crowder stared at her, impressed anew by that
suggestion of radiant enrichment in her appearance.

"I say, old girl," burst from him, "do you know you're looking
something grand."

She raised her lids and let her glance rest on him, soft and deep. It was
a strange look to come from Pancha's bold, defiant eyes.

"Am I?" she said gently. "I guess I'm happy, that's all."

"Well, it's powerful becoming, believe me. And why are you, especially
with 'The Gray Lady' a frost?"

She rose, the red kimono falling straight about her lithe, narrow shape,