"Ah, very likely. Success. . . . I wonder which is worse; to ignore it, or to bow down to it? I've ignored it all my life. I've never thought about it. And now I've suddenly discovered that I want it. Yes, I want it badly. And I'm wondering if it's too late . . . if it won't, perhaps, ignore me, now?"
His eyes met hers, frankly. What he meant was that without success he felt he could not enjoy her friendship. At least he thought he meant that. Judy thought he meant something quite different.
Then Noel came in with Connie, and that ended their talk for the present. Connie was looking wonderfully young and extremely handsome, and was no more made up than was permissible. Her lovely gray gown and her triple row of pearls—Morton Freeman's gift—became her to perfection. She looked a different woman from the painted, haggard creature Eric had first seen in Paris. Millie's greeting was formal, while Mr. Pendleton's—he had expected something so very much worse—was almost effusive. A look from Millie, however, soon put him in his place, which, for the rest of the evening, was the smoking room. Chip was talking to Noel, and Judy was just beginning to feel that the evening might not be a
