hey had changed her
whole attitude towards the man. The signs were slight, too slight for
him to have recognized them as yet; but Sally's curious, pitiless eyes
had discerned them. She had discerned and disapproved, and she had
resolved that no squeamish delicacy should keep her from preventing
Beatrix's playing the part of a prude.

"He is the best-looking man of the season, and the best dancer. He took
honors at Goettingen. He has any quantity of money." Sally ticked off the
points on the tips of her gray glove. "And most of all," she tapped her
thumb conclusively, "he is very much in love with Miss Beatrix Dane, and
I want him to marry her."

"Oh, Sally, do be sensible!" Beatrix burst out impatiently. Then she
pulled herself up sharply and turned to bay. "What about the Forbes
supper?" she demanded.

Sally shrugged her shoulders, as she fastened her fur collar.

"Oh, Beatrix, you prig! Are there any men of our set who haven't been a
little frisky?"

"Frisky! That is a milder word than I should use, Sally. The Forbes
affair transcends friskiness and becomes the beginning of the pace that
kills. It was intolerable; I can't forgive it."

Her face flushed; then it paled and hardened with the rigidity of
self-control. Sally peered out at her through lowered lashes, and judged
that it was time for her to remove herself. She had known Beatrix from
their childhood, and this was the first time she had seen her jarred
from her self-possession. She fastened the last hook with a jerk. Then
she rose and went to her friend's side.

"I didn't mean to tease you, dear," she said penitently. "I know this
has been worrying you; but don't let it get on your nerves and influence
you too much. All men make slips at times. Mr. Lorimer is a good fellow,
even if he has been a little fast. He would drop all that as soon as he
was--settled. Besides, this isn't nearly as bad as ever so many of the
stories we hear."

"No," Beatrix assented drearily; "but it is bad enough."

"Then you do care?"

"Care!" She laughed a little harshly. "Sally, truly I must send you off.
It is time I was dressing, for I promised to go. I am sorry, but--"

"I am used to being dismissed; I shall come again." There was no hint of
rancor in Sally's tone, yet she went away fully convinced that her own
system of measurement could never reach the heights and the depths of
her friend's mood.

Left to herself, Beatrix forgot her need for haste. She dropped down