But Miriam was not so quickly satisfied. There was Dan O’Falley, but his was such fulsome effrontery. There was Clifford Eggleton, but he had been a sweetheart of Miriam’s in the old days before Lem came, and that seemed hardly fair. There was Hal Jervis, but he was too utterly wax in woman’s hands to give her any semblance of thrill. Then her eyes rested on a profile in another corner of the room—a dark sleek head, a dark thin face, and the clear outline of one merry eye. Miriam appraised the head speculatively. Who in the world could it be? That merry eye looked very enticing. Ah, now she could see better—he was talking to the Merediths. Then the merry-eyed one was a stranger—so much the better, the uncertainty of him pleased her. She was very weary of those she knew so well. She moved happily that way, suddenly surprised to know that she was not at all concerned because her husband sat in the distant corner with Mrs. Cartle. She felt for him to-night only a whimsical comradeship. Stopping many times on her way to exchange a word and a smile, she finally drew near the corner where the sleek dark head and the merry eye had drawn her. Mrs. Meredith, seeing her, came to meet her, and drew her forward impulsively.
“Oh, Miriam, you must meet our friend, Mr. Cameron. He has only just come here to be with my husband in business, and we are going to love him, I know.” And so immediately Miriam found herself looking directly, and with great pleasure, full into the merry eyes. The gown was beautiful upon her, she knew it positively, whether Lem had been stirred by the vision or not.
“Oh, she is lovely enough,” said Billy Meredith plaintively. “But don’t be lured by her, Cameron. She is still in love with her husband.”
Miriam smiled at her victim with disarming friendliness. “But I like to be amused,” she said. “And I have been married long enough now to feel like playing again.”
Cameron laughed at that, and the laughter fulfilled the promise of the merry eye. Miriam was quite intoxicated with the game her husband had taught her. That Eveley was a clever little thing, wasn’t she?
“Suppose we dance then,” Cameron suggested eagerly. “It is the approved method of beginning to play.”
“We resign you to your fate,” sighed Billy Meredith once more. “I warned you, you laughed me to scorn. Now plunge and die.”
“He seems to think I am dangerous,” said Miriam, as they stepped lightly away to the call of the music.
“Well, far be it from me to say he is wrong. But I am sure you will prove a charming playfellow. You seem fairly to match my own mood. I suppose we can not climb trees and go nutting and fishing and wade in the creek as we might have done together years ago, but if you will be patient and teach me your way of playing in your ladyhood, I think you will find me an apt, and certainly a willing playmate.”
“Then let’s begin to-morrow night. Come to my house, and let’s play pool. It is the most reckless thing we can do. I have a sweet little friend and she has a deadly admirer, and they will come with us. She is very clever, too, and full of fun. See, that is she there, dancing—the one with the golden frock. Her name is Eveley Ainsworth and the solemn young man is Nolan Inglish, and they are unannounced but accepted sweethearts. You are not afraid of Friend Husband, then?”