"Hardly, in your case," and he smiles.

She likes him to study her as he is gravely doing now. She has not posed for him, and yet she thought of him when she came out and settled herself.

"I have a favor to ask," he says, presently, and it would sound abrupt if the voice were less finely modulated.

"I am in a mood which is either indolent or generous. Try me."

Floyd Grandon prefers his request. It is never any direct aid or benefit to himself. Has this man no little friendly needs?

"Of course," she says. "Then I shall be sure of you as a spectator of the pageant. I was not at all certain you would honor me, since Mrs.

Grandon does not partic.i.p.ate in Germans."

"But I think she would like them," he says. "I suppose disparity in marriages is generally condemned for kindred reasons, one has gone by the heyday of youth, and the other should be in it. Almost I am tempted to try a German. Would Latimer keep me in countenance, I wonder?"

"Yes," she answers. "And Mrs. Latimer would no doubt take you through the figures. Miss Murray is probably skilled in the art."

"And I must give a garden party for her. Would Friday answer?"

"Too soon, unless--how long does she remain?"

"A week or so. It is possible if Mr. Murray should be charmed with the place he would cast in his lot at Grandon Park."

"Where is Mrs. Murray?"

"There is no Mrs. Murray, and only one daughter. I am not quite equal to the care of young ladies. If Laura were here--so you see I am compelled to trouble my friends."

That is all settled and she leads him to other matters. There are higher subjects than Germans between them,--the new literary work, the return of Prof. Freilgrath, a coming winter of more absolute satisfaction than the last, the possibilty of much time being spent in the city, and bits of half-confidence that she knows he can give to no other. She is his friend, and there is a secret elation in this; more she does not care to claim.

He drives to the station for his new friends. Violet is awaiting his return with her attendant Cecil, who is the embodiment of brilliant health and rare beauty. Mr. Murray is a fine business-looking man, a trifle past forty, with smiling, shrewd gray eyes, a bright complexion, and full brown beard. Miss Murray is tall, with a willowy figure, a round, infantile face, with wondering blue eyes, a dimpled chin, a rather wide mouth, but the lips are exquisitely curved and smiling; not a regular beauty, but possessing much piquant loveliness and the peculiar gift of interesting you at once. Even Violet is curiously moved as she holds the plump, ungloved hand in hers. Miss Murray's voice has a rather plaintive, persuasive note in it, quite different from the independent ring of Miss Dayre.

Violet conducts her up to a pretty guest-chamber, and listens to the events of the journey and a two weeks' stay at Newport, which has been crowded full of pleasure.

"I hope we shall not seem dull here by contrast," says Mrs. Grandon, and Miss Murray notes the especial refinement of this little lady, who is the wife of the somewhat famous Floyd Grandon.

"I do not expect every place to be quite alike," returns Miss Murray, with cheerful good-nature. "And we met several people at Newport who knew Mr. Grandon. Isn't there a learned German who married some one----"

"Professor Freilgrath, whose wife is Mr. Grandon's sister."

"Are you literary, too?" and Miss Murray's childlike eyes accent the question with a perceptible negative hope.

"Oh, no!" and Violet smiles with admirable expression.

"Well, I am glad," returns the young girl, rather hesitatingly. "I am not much used to them, you see, and I like nice jolly times better. I do almost everything in the way of amus.e.m.e.nt. Do you play lawn tennis?"

"I do not quite understand it, and blunder dreadfully," admits Violet.

"Oh, I adore it!"

"Then Mr. Grandon's brother will be able to entertain you. He is an excellent player."

"The one they call Eugene?"

"Yes, there is but one."

"Papa and Mr. Grandon talked about him. How old is he?"

"Past twenty-three," answers Violet, "and very handsome."

"Dark or light?"

"Dark, brilliant, with a splendid figure and perfect health."

"I adore dark men," says Miss Murray. "And does he dance?"

"He is an elegant dancer. We are all to go to a German to-morrow evening. Eugene is away now, but will return in the morning."

Miss Murray confesses that she "adores" Germans and rowing and riding.

She has a magnificent horse at home. She is not going to school any more, but may consider herself regularly in society.

After all these confidences Violet leaves her to make any change in her attire that she deems desirable, and Miss Murray comes down in a blue silk that is wonderfully becoming. It makes her complexion more infantile, her hair more golden, and her eyes larger. She has a soft, languishing aspect, and really interests Violet, who does not feel so utterly lacking in wisdom as she did with Miss Dayre, for Miss Murray makes girlish little speeches and "adores" generally.

There is an elegant luncheon of fruit and delicacies, and Mrs. Grandon _mere_ presides. Afterward the gentlemen betake themselves to the tower and smoke; Violet and her guest divide between the shady end of the drawing-room and the porch, with its beautiful prospect. When the midday heat begins to abate they have their drive and some trotting on the boulevard. Miss Murray grows quite confidential, not in a weak or silly manner, but with the frank _insouciance_ of youth. She seems so generally bent upon having a good time and being liked, admired. She is simply frank where Miss Dayre was independent. She does everything, rows and rides and plays out-of-door games, even to belonging to an archery club. But needlework is her abhorrence, and with all her restless youth she has a great grace of repose as she sits in the willow veranda chair.

Eugene comes through in a night train,--time is so valuable to him,--and is set down, with all his traps, at the door of the mansion just after the gentlemen have had breakfast and departed. Violet catches a glimpse of him and flies up from the summer-house.

"Oh, you have come!" she cries. "I am so glad."

He takes both hands in his, and if the servants were not about, he would draw down the sweet, blooming face and kiss it. There is an eager light in her eyes, a quiver about the rose-red mouth, a certain abandon that is very fascinating.

"Yes," he replies. "It was an awful bore! No game, nor anything but stupid card-playing. Wished myself home fifty times. How lovely you look!" and his eyes study her so closely that she flushes in a ravishing fashion.

"Are you tired to death? I have so much for you to do. There is a German to-night at Madame Lepelletier's, and we are all going. We have a guest, a young lady."

He gives a whistle, and the delight in his face vanishes more rapidly than it ought.

"A Miss Murray," Violet goes on. "You cannot help liking her: I do."

"Then I shall," he returns, with a meaning laugh.

"When you are rested----" Violet begins.

"Oh, I slept like a top! Nothing _could_ keep me awake but a troubled conscience. When I get the dust of ages washed off and make myself presentable I will hunt you up. Where shall I look? Only--I'd like to have you a little glad for your own sake. You might care that much."

"Why, I _am_ glad, I did miss you," she says, daintily. "We are in the summer-house reading novels."

He unclasps her hands reluctantly. He has been thinking of her day and night when he was not asleep. Madame would be very well satisfied at the completeness with which her rival has dethroned her. His callow pa.s.sion for her has turned his attention from over-much racing and gaming, and therein was a benefit, but it has also implanted within his breast an intense desire for some woman's admiration, and circ.u.mstances have led him to Violet. He has been allowing himself to think that if he _had_ met her while she was free he would have cared. She is so lovely and beguiling, how could he have helped it? And he sees in this Miss Murray's coming an opportunity to be more devoted to her, without exposing her to any unfavorable comments.

Violet wonders how he could get through with his toilet so rapidly when he stands in the doorway of the summer-house, fresh, brilliant, his lithe figure the embodiment of manly grace, his dark eyes bright, imperious, and winning, and his smile captivating. A curious light goes over Miss Murray's face at the introduction. Evidently she is surprised and satisfied.