The familiar lines of Omar seemed doubly beautiful and doubly pregnant with meaning on the lips of this handsome, full-throated Oriental. Were he and the poet right? And were she and Dudley foolish to waste their youth in the hope of prosperity in an indefinite future? Carmelita was troubled. Nevertheless she answered lightly, "One can always make a case for materialism and soothe one's conscience with Omar. He is such a comfort—and such a false old prophet." And, rising quickly, her bare white legs twinkled up the ladder to the diving platform on the raft and she tried to clear the doubts from her head by a magnificent swan dive into Long Island Sound.
She waited until ten o'clock that night before telephoning Dudley, the last fifteen minutes in a debate with herself as to whether she should try to explain to him over the wire about the cottage she had leased and her plans for the rest of the summer. She decided it was more expedient to tell him face to face. She could explain better. Besides, despite the good time she had been having during the past two days and the endless activity with which her hostess filled her hours, she had missed her husband very much. She did not wish to spoil the deal for the cottage by going in to town the next day to see him but it would
