Pierce was no fool; even his limited experience in the North had taught him a good deal about the character of dance-hall women and of the men who handled them; he was in no wise deceived, therefore, by the respectability with which the word “theatrical” cloaked this troupe of wanderers; it gave him a feeling of extreme self-consciousness to find himself associated with such folk; he felt decidedly out of place.

What would his people think?  And the Countess Courteau?  Well, it would teach her that a man’s heart was not a football; that a man’s love was not to be juggled with.  He had made a gesture of splendid recklessness; he would take the consequences.

In justice to the young man, be it said he had ample cause for resentment, and whatever of childishness he displayed was but natural, for true balance of character is the result of experience, and as yet he had barely tasted life.

As for the girl Laure, she awoke no real interest in him, now that he saw her in the light of day; he included her in his general, vague contempt for all women of her type.  There was, in fact, a certain contamination in her touch.  True, she was a little different from the other members of the party-greatly different from Pierce’s preconceived ideas of the “other sort”—­but not sufficiently different to matter.  It is the privilege of arrogant youth to render stern and conclusive judgment.

Best waved his party toward the shore shortly before dusk.  A landing-place was selected, tents, bedding, and paraphernalia were unloaded; then, while the women looked on, the boatmen began pitching camp.  The work had not gone far before Phillips recognized extreme inefficiency in it.  Confusion grew, progress was slow, Best became more and more excited.  Irritated at the general ineptitude, Pierce finally took hold of things and in a short time had made all snug for the night.

Lights were glowing in the tents when he found his way through the gloom to the landing in search of his own belongings.  Seated on the gunwale of a skiff he discovered Laure.

“I’ve been watching you,” she said.  “You’re a handy man.”

He nodded.  “Is this the way Best usually makes camp?”

“Sure.  Only it usually takes him much longer.  I’ll bet he’s glad he hired you.”

Pierce murmured something.

“Are you glad he did?”

“Why, yes—­of course.”

“What do you think of the other girls?”

“I haven’t paid much attention to them,” he told her, frankly.

There was a moment’s pause; then Laure said: 

“Don’t!”

“Eh?”

“I say, don’t!”

Phillips shrugged.  In a world-weary, cynical tone he asserted, “Women don’t interest me.”

“What ails you to-day?” Laure inquired, curiously.

“Nothing.  I’m not much of a ladies’ man, that’s all.”

“Yes, you are.  Anyhow, you were last night.”