Quin

								

transcends the petty conventions of society. Confess! Aren't you already
a little ashamed of getting angry with me just now?"
She was not ashamed, not in the least; but her ardent desire to prove her
fitness for that coveted profession, together with the compelling
insistence of that persuasive voice, prompted her to hold out a reluctant
hand and to smile.
"You are a darling child!" said Captain Phipps, with a level glance of
approval. "I shall see you to-morrow. When? Where?"
But she would make no engagement. She was in a flutter to be gone. It was
her first experience at dancing on a precipice, and, while she liked it,
she could not deny, even to herself, that at times it made her
uncomfortably hot and dizzy.

                              CHAPTER 5

Eleanor's thoughts were still in a turmoil as she slowed her car to a
within-the-law limit of speed and brought it to a dignified halt before
an imposing edifice on Third Avenue. The precaution was well taken, for a
long, pale face that had been pressed to a front window promptly
transferred itself to the front door, and an anxious voice called out:
"Oh, Nellie, why did you stay out so late? Didn't you know it was your
duty to be in before five?"
"It's not late, Aunt Isobel," said Eleanor impatiently. "It gets dark
early, that's all."
"And you must be frozen," persisted Miss Isobel, "with those thin pumps
and silk stockings, and nothing but that veil on your head."
"But I'm hot!" declared Eleanor, throwing open her coat. "The house is
stifling. Can't we have a window open?"
Miss Isobel sighed. Like the rest of the family, she never knew what to
expect from this troublesome, adorable, disturbing mystery called
Eleanor. She worshiped her with the solicitous, over-anxious care that
saw fever in the healthy flush of youth, regarded a sneeze as premonitory
of consumption, and waited with dark certitude for the "something
dreadful" that instinct told her was ever about to happen to her darling.
"I am afraid your grandmother is terribly upset about your staying out so
late," she said, with a note of warning in her voice.
"What made you tell her?" demanded Eleanor.
"Because she asked me, and of course I could not deceive her. I don't
believe you know how hard it is to keep things from her."
"Don't I!" said Eleanor, with the tolerant smile of a professional for
an amateur. "Well, a few minutes more won't make any difference. I'll go
and change my dress."
"No, dear; you must go to her first. She's been sending Hannah down every
few minutes to see if you were here."
"Oh, dear! I suppose I'm in for it!" sighed Eleanor, flinging her coat
across the banister. Then, in answer to a plaintive voice from the
library, "Yes, Aunt Enid?"
"Why on earth are you so late, sweetheart? Didn't you know your
grandmother would be fretted?"
The possessor of the plaintive voice emerged from the library, trailing
an Oriental scarf as she came. Like her elder sister, she was tall and