en Isabelle orders that she could not sit up for
dances, as she was still a schoolgirl. The girl made no protest.

"Hops don't interest me," she said, indifferently.

After dinner she took a few turns on the piazza with Wally before she
went to bed. She wore an odd, white crepe frock, which hung very close.
Her hair was bound round her head like a cap.

"Let's sneak in and have the first dance together," said Wally; "Max has
a beau."

"All right; then I'll skip," agreed Isabelle.

With the first strains of music they swung into a waltz. They danced
well, and enjoyed it.

"Go to bed," ordered Max as she passed them.

Isabelle saw Mr. Cartel idly glance in, then at sight of her he came to
the door and watched them.

"Some dance, Miss Bryce. Much obliged. Sorry you have to leave us," said
Wally as the dance was over.

Cartel strolled off down the hall, and a few seconds later she followed
him. She saw him saunter into one of the many little rooms used for
cards, or tea. She noticed it was not lighted and, on the impulse of the
moment, she stepped in after him.

In a second she was caught and lifted in strong arms. She was kissed
again and again, while he said laughingly:

"You little devil, you came after all."

"I wonder who you are," said Isabelle sweetly, "and who you think I am."

"Thunder!" said Mr. Cartel, holding her off, and trying to peer at her.

"There must be some mistake," Isabelle suggested. "I will ask you to
stand just where you are, until I have time to get into the elevator.
That will save us both any embarrassment."

"But I don't understand," he mumbled. "I do beg your pardon, I
thought----"

"Give me three minutes; and I rely on you not to peep into the hall,"
she said, with a chuckle. And was gone, leaving the actor-manager more
at a loss than such events usually found him.

Now whether Mr. Cartel peeped or not, the next day he recalled a
previous meeting with Wally, and asked to be presented to his daughter.

"Haven't we met before, Miss Bryce?" he asked, giving her a very special
look.

"No," she replied, with the faintest suspicion of a taunt in her tone.

"I was under the impression that we had."

"I'm sure I couldn't forget."

"Are you enjoying yourself here?"

"Not especially."

"What do you enjoy, Miss Bryce?"

"Excitement."

"Couldn't we find you some?"

"You might," with the slightest accent on the pronoun.

"Let's try," he countered.