with truly wonderful hazel eyes,
came rapidly, gracefully, into the room, her companion following more
sedately, and then stopped suddenly, as if petrified. She stood a
moment--this haughty, handsome maid--a lovely picture of bewildered
astonishment.

"Royal Maillot!" she cried, "whatever in the world has happened to your
eye?"

CHAPTER VI

AN EXTRAORDINARY ERRAND

I fancy that in ordinary circumstances Mr. Maillot would have betrayed
some discomposure at the unintentional ridicule of this remarkably
pretty girl's _naivete_, and furthermore, that the fact of his not
having done so at once perplexed and alarmed her. For a moment she
contemplated his worried countenance in round-eyed bewilderment, and
then glanced inquiringly at me.

Maillot, in a sober manner, presented me. The handsome brown-eyed girl
was Miss Belle Fluette; the other was her cousin, Miss Genevieve
Cooper. She, too, was strikingly pretty, but instead of brown, her
eyes were a deep and wonderful blue. Her hair was wavy and had many of
the bronze lights and shadows that lurked in her cousin's reddish
tresses, although it approached nearer a chestnut shade than auburn.
She was not so tall as Miss Belle, and was more reserved in her
demeanor.

Yet, in her sidewise regard of Maillot, there was a humorous, shrewd
appreciation of his damaged appearance, connoting worldly knowledge
sufficient to ascribe it to causes not precisely complimentary to his
sobriety. Both, however, were very lovely, and very jaunty in their
turbans and veils and long fur coats, while their cheeks glowed and
their eyes sparkled from the crisp wintry air.

Miss Fluette acknowledged the mention of my name a little distantly.
She made me feel that she had already surmised trouble, and that she
was disposed to hold me accountable for it.

Miss Cooper was more cordial. She was very gracious, in a quiet,
reserved way, and the expression of her blue eyes was so congenial that
I caught myself more than once attempting to steal a glimpse of her
countenance without her observing me, only to be disconcerted by a
candid and not at all shy regard.

"Can we not go at once, Royal?" queried Miss Fluette, doubtfully. "It
is dreadfully warm and stuffy in here. Jepson is waiting with the
carriage."

I understood clearly, of course, that my presence accounted for her
constraint. More than likely she would have given much to have got
Maillot away immediately; but he replied,