other people, and she had become aware of Mrs.
Van Blooren's presence at the same moment. For when Nan glanced in his
direction he was gazing fixedly at the newcomer with a look in his
steady blue eyes which she had never beheld in them before. Oh, yes,
there had been no mistaking that look. She knew she was not clever,
but she was a woman, and no woman could ever mistake such a look in the
eyes of a man.

But worse was to follow. There was a respite for her in the activities
of the reception. For Jeff was as busily occupied as she was. Then,
too, at the banquet she had ample time to recover from the shock. But
the ball came, and they were both released from their duties, and
everybody was left free to dance as only the western people love to
dance.

It was then that her bitter cup was filled to overflowing. Jeff danced
six times with Mrs. Van Blooren. Six times, and one supper extra,
while she had to content herself with a miserable two dances with the
one man who, to her stood out foremost among all men.

It was during the long hours of that dreary ball that she had
encountered her father's curious regard, and now she wondered if he had
seen what she had seen. If he had understood as she understood.

Nan wanted to cry. As she lay there on her snowy bed, restless, and
wakeful, and troubled, there were certainly moments when her tired eyes
filled with tears. But she did not, would not cry. She smiled to
herself, and even laughed. She ridiculed herself and made jest of her
absurd pretensions. She told herself a hundred times she had no claim
upon Jeff. He was free to do as he chose, to dance all night with any
Mrs. Van Blooren.

But when, at last, the first beam of daylight penetrated the light
material of the window blinds, and slowly flooded the room, it found
Nan in a troubled sleep with two great unshed tears slowly welling in
the corners of her eyes, and ready to fall heavily and sadly down the
perfect moulding of her softly rounded cheeks.

CHAPTER X

THE POLO CLUB RACES

The race-track at Calthorpe was a matter of no small pride to its
citizens. Any western city could possess broad and beautiful avenues.
Any city might well boast hotels of six, eight, or even ten floors, and
express elevators, and things of that sort. A cathedral was not
unknown even, and electric surface cars. But a race-track--a
recognized race-track--which was included in the official western
circuit of race