Sonia thought something not quite nice had occurred. She was dismayed to feel the tremulous pity which surged up as she looked at him. She didn’t want to pity him. She wanted his clean strength. She wanted to know the drivingly youthful passion she had sensed in the restaurant.

She was sick of warmed-over love. Deathly tired of whipping up the embers of tired passion to the semblance of life. Wearied of the pale substitute for desire most men gave her.

She sensed that Robert offered her something more precious than she had ever known. If she could awaken that flame it would be to match it with her own.

The roadster’s brakes screeched and the car slithered to a halt in the shadow of a huge tree. They were on the outskirts of New Orleans. A cottage nestled whitely in the seclusion of thick shrubbery.

Sonia slipped from behind the wheel, and waited till Rboert joined her.

“This is home,” she said briefly. “I live here alone.”

The pebbles on the path crunched beneath their feet as they went up to the darkened house. Sonia drew Robert’s arm about her waist and held it there. He let her do as she wished, submissively.

His heart was pounding strongly, and his conscious mind looked on mockingly as she inserted a latchkey in the front door and swung it open. A switch clicked, and the room was flooded with a soft radiance from concealed indirect lighting.

The effect was vaguely theatrical and exceedingly intriguing. It was a small room, with low, tapestried lounges and soft rugs. Cushions about the floor, and a flop-eared bulldog to sneer at them.

Sonia drew Robert into the center of the room with a quick gesture. She lifted her face to his and patted his cheek. “You’re sweet,” she whispered. Her wistful beauty was accentuated by the soft light. She looked virginal... and very young.

Robert didn’t know what to say. He tried to smile, but a lump in his throat choked the smile back. His eyes were agonized as he caught himself wondering if it had been in some such setting as this that Babs had given herself to that man.

Sonia quivered as she detected that flicker of pain in his eyes. She felt a rush of maternal tenderness. This was succeeded by a different sort of tenderness. Stronger. Terrifying. Facing him, Sonia realized she had never known passion before.

She moved, and the toe of her silver slipper touched a concealed switch which actuated a rheostatic device cleverly contrived to dim the lights slowly to a final darkness.

Then she stepped close to Robert and took both his hands in hers. The lights were dimmed so gradually that one did not realize there was a change.

She swayed her body to meet his, and drew his hands together behind her back. Her lips were upturned, and Robert’s eyes remained open as he bent to kiss them.

A shiver rippled down the length of her body, and Robert crushed her to him.

She pushed him away and spoke gaspingly:

“I’m suffocating! Do something! I’m smothering! I want you to... tear my clothes off me! Strip them off... every stitch! Take me.” She held out her arms to him imploringly.

Robert looked at her in bewilderment. The light in the room had grown so dim that her figure was swathed in soft darkness.

“For God’s sake! do something!” she whispered savagely. She seized his hands as he hesitated, and lifted them to clasp the fingers about the shoulder straps of her velvet gown. Then she swayed back from him... holding his hands tightly on the fabric.

The cloth ripped, and her white body gleamed sensuously to her slender waist where a belt held the skirt.

Robert’s teeth grated together and a frenzy of mad desire changed him to a thing of brutish passion.

His hands tore at the linked belt of metal and he threw it behind him as it came asunder. He laughed wildly as he tore at her gown. The sheer velvet yielded to his impetuous hands... and Sonia stood before him...

The lights were a dim luster and her body was a gleaming gem against the darkness.

Robert dropped to the floor with a sob. Darkness encompassed the room as Sonia gently knelt beside him.

Chapter Fourteen

Barbara awoke early the following morning. She lay dreamily beneath the covers for a few minutes, luxuriating in the feeling of expectancy which gripped her. She felt childishly eager to be up and grasp the happiness the day held for her. As she used to feel on Christmas morning before delving into her stocking.

For this was Mardi Gras. What had gone before had been but preparation for the final festival. The atmosphere seemed surcharged with delighted anticipation.

For weeks the city had moved riotously toward this culmination. Since early daybreak the entire area had seethed with feverish activity. Mardi Gras Day!

Barbara flung back the covers and skipped out of bed. A quick shower, and she was glowingly ready for anything the day might bring forth. She refused to remember the confused sensations of the preceding night. That was past. Today was hers.

The door opened as she dressed, and Ethel stood on the threshold.

“Hello,” she called happily. “You’re up and about mighty early after the scene you put on last night.”

“Wasn’t it terrible?” Barbara laughed. “Were you horribly disgusted with me?”

“Not disgusted. Worried for a time. You picked a hell of a place to do your passing out,” Ethel told her severely. “Next time please make an attempt to stagger out of the man’s room before we have to call the medico to revive you.”

“Was Frank... angry?”

“No. Only disappointed,” Ethel said serenely.

“I’ll be ready in a moment,” Barbara said hastily. “Are we missing anything yet?”

“No. We’re not missing anything.” Ethel smiled tolerantly. “The real excitement doesn’t start till eleven o’clock when Rex’s day pageant begins. I’ve got a swell place picked to watch the parade. Come on. We’ll go down for breakfast if you’re ready.”

“All ready,” Barbara said hastily. She dabbed some powder on her nose and ran a comb through her hair. Then followed Ethel sedately down the stairs.

“Hello, Dad,” she heard Ethel greet her father. “You going to step out to give some frustrate lady a thrill to-day?”

“I’m going to stay close indoors,” Mr. Brinkley assured her. “You’ll not catch me risking my limbs in the mad capers of carnival.”

“So you say,” Ethel laughed. “I’ll bet a five-spot you’re out among ’em before sundown to-night.”

“Is that so?” Mr. Brinkley began indignantly. Then he caught sight of Barbara as she descended the stairs.

“Good morning,” he called to her. “Did your young man find you last night?”

“My young man?” she asked lightly. “Which of my young men? I didn’t know one was looking for me.”

“He sounded rather desperate over the telephone,” Mr. Brinkley said humorously. “He must be a very naïve young man to be calling up at eleven o’clock on Mardi Gras eve and expecting to find a young lady at home. He should have realized that was the last place in the world to look for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Ethel asked. “What young man wanted whom?”

“Someone who acted as though the end of the world had come when I told him Barbara wasn’t here,” Mr. Brinkley said. “Come on in to breakfast and we’ll talk about it,” he added. “Mardi Gras is the one day in the year that you’re up early enough to eat breakfast with me.”

“Didn’t he say who he was?” Barbara asked. “I can’t imagine who was calling me last night.”

“He mumbled some name,” Mr. Brinkley said disgustedly. “Robert something-or-other... I couldn’t understand him very well.”

“Robert?” both the girls echoed in unison. They gazed at each other in dismay. Barbara’s eyes were distended.

“Do you suppose it could have been...?”

“Of course not,” Ethel said impatiently. “Probably one of Frank’s drunken friends.”

“But... but... if it was...” Barbara faltered.

“Was his last name anything like Sutler?” Ethel demanded of her father.

“Now let me see.” He wrinkled his forehead thoughtfully. “It might have been Sutler,” he acknowledged. “Though I couldn’t say positively.”

“What did he say?” Barbara asked tensely. “Did he leave any message?”

“He left no message,” Mr. Brinkley assured her. “He merely asked for you... and gasped when I told him you were out and I had no idea when you would return.”

“Oh!” Barbara bit her lip fiercely and stared at Ethel. “I... I... Excuse me,” she stammered, jumping up from the table and hurrying from the room.

“What on earth?” Mr. Brinkley began stupidly.

“Why didn’t you tell her his name wasn’t Sutler?” Ethel asked angrily. “Her whole day will be spoiled now.”

“But... how was I to know?” Mr. Brinkley said helplessly. “Who is Robert Sutler, and why should a call from him spoil her day?”

“He’s a brawny nincompoop from the farm back home that she thinks she’s in love with,” Ethel told him swiftly. “If that hick has followed her here to spoil her vacation, I’ll... I’ll shoot him,” she said savagely. “Just when she was beginning to snap out of it too,” she muttered. “You’ll have to excuse me, Dad. I’ll go up to keep her from tearing out her hair.”

Mr. Brinkley stared after Ethel in bewilderment. He shook his head sadly and muttered something between his teeth.

Ethel found Barbara sitting in her room staring out the window.

“Don’t start moping.” Ethel crossed the room quickly and laid her hand on Barbara’s shoulder.

“But suppose it was Bob?” Barbara began tragically.