"My head aches a little. I think it was the champagne." 

Chris laughed. 

"Silly kid! It will do you good." 

He slipped a careless hand through her arm and led her across the lounge to where a group of men stood chatting and laughing together. 

He touched one of them on the shoulder. 

"Dakers—I want to introduce you to my wife——" 

He rushed the last two words nervously. "Marie, this is Dakers— otherwise Feathers. I hope you'll be friends." 

Marie gave him her hand. Was this the man who had brought her castle tumbling down? she wondered, and her brown eyes were full of 21 unconscious pathos as she raised them to his face. 

21

What an ugly man, she thought, with a sudden feeling of aversion, with blunt, roughly-cut features, and a skin burnt almost black by constant exposure to wind and weather, but his face when he smiled was kindly, and involuntarily she returned the pressure of his fingers. 

And then he spoke, and she recognized his voice instantly as the voice of the man who, with careless indifference, had blasted her happiness. 

"Delighted to meet you," he said. "I know your old rascal of a husband well, Mrs. Lawless. Many a good time we've had together in the past." 

"And shall have in the future," Chris struck in casually. "Don't put it so definitely in the past." 

He turned to a boyish-looking youth who had been standing looking on rather sheepishly. "Marie, this is Atkins." 

The boy blushed and grinned. He gripped Marie's hand with bearlike fervency. 

"Awfully pleased to meet you," he said. "Shall we go and look on? Chris and Feathers are going to play pills." 

Marie raised dazed eyes to him. 

"Feathers—who is Feathers?" she asked helplessly. 

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