Flower of the World

ed his flute it was like birds singing in a wood. This afternoon the voice that filled the studio was the voice of the wind,?high, frolicsome, piping to gusty sweetness. . . . Vague in the twilight shadows, airy as a blown flower, a little figure danced. With garments like floating petals she seemed to sway toward Michael . . . retreating, hesitating, advancing,?hands extended in elfish invitation. The light patter of her feet was like the whisper of raindrops. ... A glance over the shoulder; ?a twitter of secret laughter. . . . Provocative she poised before him! Scarcely knowing what he did he took her hand,?turned with her,?was dancing too. Cortwright in the wide sea-window, legs astraddle, head thrown back, piped as for fairies! The glint of his rounded eyes,?caught through the half-light,?the tilt of pointed beard recalled Brentwood's expression:? "Half cousin to a goat. ..." A faun would be that! It was Robert's laugh brought the dance to a sudden close. "Gad!" he applauded. "Well staged. Excellently staged!" Philip, all hospitable attention, turned on the lights. Michael, to cover his confusion, pretended to look at the fountain. The one thing he was really conscious of was that the little dancer had followed him;?was standing near him, friendly but shy in her turn. Cortwright, half whimsical, half rueful, was explaining to Martyn his predicament. "Yesterday afternoon, you say? The deuce, man! That's twenty-four hours. They'll have...