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impatiently.
    â€œYou don’t like it short?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDavid.”
    â€œWell?”
    â€œShall I stop putting stuff on my face?”
    She went on playing with her left hand, drew a finger down one smooth cheek, and held it out covered with ivory powder.
    David made a face of disgust.
    â€œShall I leave it off?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd not paint my lips?”
    The gondola was rocking steadily again. Folly’s black lashes were cast down; the scarlet mouth trembled a little.
    â€œYes,” said David impatiently.
    Then his heart smote him. Suppose she began to cry. Girls did.
    Folly went on playing very softly. Suddenly she looked up at him, her eyes alive with green malice.
    â€œWhy don’t you marry, David?”
    â€œYou’d better ask Grandmamma.”
    â€œI’d rather ask you. Why, David?”
    â€œYou can have three guesses.”
    Something a good deal older than Folly peeped at him. David received rather a shock. Folly was what? Nineteen? Where did she get that look—hard, knowing?
    She said quite softly, watching him:
    â€œShe won’t marry you— or you won’t marry her— or you’re married already.”
    She had the satisfaction of seeing his look of black anger. Then he turned his back on her and went over to the fire.
    Folly hit the keyboard with both hands and produced a medley of screaming notes. Then, to a series of discords, she sang in a husky, penetrating whisper:
    â€œMy baby’s a scream,
    My baby’s a dream,
    She’s a hula mula wula girl,
    She’s a crazy daisy nightmare—ula
    My baby’s a scream.”

CHAPTER VI
    Eleanor came into Folly’s room that night after they had all gone upstairs. She found three electric lights on and Miss Folly in her shift practising barefoot dancing. Her black frock lay in a heap on the floor. There was one stocking by the washstand and another at the foot of the bed. The high-heeled black shoes were in opposite corners of the room. One scarlet garter decorated the bedpost.
    Folly went on dancing without taking any notice of Eleanor, who said, “Untidy little wretch!” and then watched her indulgently. In the end Folly turned her head over her shoulder and inquired laconically:
    â€œPie-jaw?”
    â€œDo you deserve one?”
    â€œProb.” She rose on her bare toes, clasped her hands above her head, and yawned.
    â€œFolly, what did you say to David? He hardly spoke for the rest of the evening. What on earth did you say to him?”
    Folly looked sleepy and innocent. Then she laughed. The laugh was not so innocent.
    â€œI ran a pin into him—I ran three pins, and one of them pricked him. I wish I knew which pin it was.”
    A look of distress crossed Eleanor’s face.
    â€œI wanted David to like you—but you’re such a little fool.”
    â€œThey should have called me Flora. I should have been perfectly good if I’d been called Flora—I get no end of moral uplift every time Grandmamma does it. But when I’m Folly—ooh! Eleanor, I’m going to tea with a nice young man the day after to-morrow. I met him this morning, and he asked me. I think he’s a farmer.”
    â€œNonsense!”
    â€œHis name is Matthew Brown. You can’t say that isn’t respectable, and you can’t say I didn’t tell you. He’s got a sister called Gladys Ann—she lives with him. And if I can’t go to a night club with Stingo to-morrow, I do think I might be allowed to go and have a respectably chaperoned tea with Matthew Brown.”
    â€œRubbish!” said Eleanor. “Look here, Folly.”
    Folly was leaning out of the open window, the chintz curtain held aside.
    â€œI think I shall go for a moonlight ramble. Perhaps I should pick up something more exciting than Matthew Brown.”
    â€œFolly—it’s icy! Do shut that window.”
    â€œStuffy old thing!” The