Within twenty minutes of leaving the table, Folly rose from the edge of her chair and crossed to Lady Derl.

“Good-by,” she breathed shyly, holding out her hand.  “I must go now.”  Lewis sprang up to accompany her.  They could see he was aching to get away somewhere where he could put his arms around her.  Leighton crossed to the door and held it open.  “Good-by,” said Folly to him, holding out her hand.  “I’ve had such a good time.”

At the word “such,” Leighton winced and flushed.  Then he grinned.

“Good-by, Folly,” he said.  “I hope you’ll come again when you’re feeling more like yourself.”

He closed the door and then rang for Nelton.  Nelton came.

“Bring me the iodine,” said Leighton, as with his handkerchief he stanched the blood from a bad scratch on his right wrist.

“Heavens!  Glen,” cried Helene, “how did you get that?

“Didn’t you see me jump when she said ’such’?” asked Leighton.  Then they sat down, and Helene laughed for a long time, while Leighton tried not to.  “Oh,” he said at last, “I wish we didn’t have to think of Lew!”

“You may ask for my advice now,” said Helene, a little breathlessly.  “I’ve got it ready.”

“Thank God!” said Leighton.  “What is it?”

“It’s only a plan to gain time, after all,” said Helene; “but that’s what you want—­time for Lew to get his puppy eyes opened.  You can elaborate the idea.  I’ll just give you the skeleton.”

She did, and, soon after, Leighton saw her into a cab.  He went back to the flat and waited.  He knew that Lewis would not be gone long.  He would be too keen to hear his father’s and Lady Derl’s verdict.

Leighton had just settled down to a book and a second cigar when Lewis came into the room like a breeze that had only a moment to stay.

“Well, Dad,” he cried, “what have you got to say now?  What has Lady Derl got to say?”

Lewis flung himself into a chair, crossed his arms, and stretched his legs straight out before him.  His head hung to one side, and he was so confident of his father’s verdict that he was laughing at him out of bright eyes.

Leighton laid his book aside and took his cigar from his mouth.  He leaned toward his son, his elbows on his knees.

“Every time I see Miss Delaires,” he said slowly, “my opinion of her charms and her accomplishments goes up with a leap.”

Lewis nodded, and scarcely refrained from saying, “I told you so.”

Leighton’s face remained impassive.  “She has a much larger repertoire than I thought,” he continued; “but there’s one role she can’t play.”

“What’s that?” asked Lewis.

“Marriage.”

“Why?” asked Lewis, his face setting.  Then he blurted out:  “I might as Well tell you, she says she doesn’t believe in marriage.  She’s too advanced.”

“Too advanced!” exclaimed Leighton.  “Why, my dear boy, she hasn’t advanced an inch from the time the strongest man with the biggest club had a God-given right to the fairest woman in the tribe and exercised it.  That was the time for Folly to marry.”