help any that he saw her grow more glorious, more beautiful every day! Of course she knew she had him—had him where she knew he couldn't do a thing—where she could laugh at him—go the limit with Thornton if she liked. But, curse it, it wasn't only Thornton—that was what he could not understand—she had begun to keep away from him before ever Thornton had come back.
Madison was near the porch now, and, raising his eyes, noted a supplicant going into the shrine-room—a woman, richly dressed but in widow's weeds, who walked feebly. The game went on by itself, once started—there were half a hundred more about the lawn! Like a snowball rolling down hill, as he had put it at the Roost. The Roost! If he only had Helena back there for about a minute there'd be an end of this! She'd go a little too far one of these days—a little too far—it was pretty near far enough now—and then there'd be a showdown, game or no game, and somebody would get hurt in the smash, and—
He lifted his eyes again, as some one came hurrying through the cottage door. It was the Flopper. And then to his surprise, he found himself being pushed unceremoniously from the porch and pulled excitedly behind the trellis.
"What's the matter with you!" he demanded angrily. "Are you crazy!"
"T'ank de Lord youse have showed up!" gasped the Flopper. "Say, honest, I can't do nothin' wid him—he's got me near bughouse."
