t Mrs. Lloyd Avalons
realized she had been defeated and then dismissed by the man whose
patroness she was assuming to be.

"No matter," she reflected; "we've got to pay Signora Cantabella, and we
can insist upon her singing something a little more digestible. Mr.
Thayer is cranky; but we get him and that little Arlt for nothing, so I
suppose we mustn't be too critical."

For once, Mrs. Lloyd Avalons showed her good sense. In all truth,
beggars should not be choosers, whether the alms be of bread crusts or
of high art.

Lorimer dined with Beatrix, that night. Contrary to the custom of the
Danes, they did not linger over the meal; and, as soon as they left the
table, Beatrix and Lorimer strolled away to the conservatory at the back
of the house. The yellow sunset light was still gilding the place, and
through the wide-open windows the night breeze crept in, softly stirring
the heavy palm leaves and scattering the scent of a few late violets
over all the air.

Refusing the seat which Lorimer silently pointed out to her, Beatrix
paced restlessly up and down the broad middle walk.

"I think I am nervous, to-night," she said, with an odd little laugh. "I
have been feeling, all day long, as if things were going to happen."

"Things generally do happen," Lorimer said lightly, as he sauntered
along by her side.

"Yes; but something unusual, something uncanny."

Lorimer threw back his head and laughed.

"I thought you derided presentiments, Beatrix."

She bit her lip.

"I do," she said, after a pause. "I know it is foolish, and I am ashamed
of myself; but I dread this recital, to-night, and I dread that hateful
Lloyd Avalons supper after it. Let's not go, Sidney."

"Oh, but we must. Why not?"

"They are such impossible people."

"I know; but everyone will understand that it is on Thayer's account
that we go, Beatrix. And he made such a point of it."

She drew a long breath.

"If we must--But I dread it. Do keep Mr. Avalons away from me, then."

As he looked down at the brown head which scarcely rose above his lips,
Lorimer's smile ceased to be whimsical and became inexpressibly tender
and winning.

"Count on me, dear girl. He is a brute; but I won't let him go near
you."

Impulsively she turned and faced him.

"Sidney," she said, with a breathless catch in her voice; "Sidney--"
Then, while she hesitated, she raised her hands and rested them on his
broad shoulders. "Sidney dearest, do you know what it is