him she was hungry. Or she could let any one of several young men
understand that she was now permanently receptive to dinner
invitations. And she could, if she chose, live on her personal
popularity,--be to one man or to several _une maitresse
vierge_--manage, contrive, accept, give nothing of consequence.

For she was a girl to flatter the vanity of men; and she knew that if
ever she coolly addressed her mind to it she could rule them, entangle
them, hold them sufficiently long, and flourish without the ultimate
concession, because there were so many, many men in the world, and it
took each man a long, long time to relinquish hope; and always there
was another ready to try his fortune, happy in his vanity to attempt
where all so far had failed.

Something she _had_ to do; that was certain. And it happened, while
she was pondering the problem, that the only thing she had not
considered,--had not even thought of--was now abruptly presented to
her.

For, as she lay there thinking, there came the sound of footsteps
outside her door, and presently somebody knocked. And Athalie rose in
the dusk of the room, switched on a single light, went to the door and
opened it. And opportunity walked in wearing the shape of an elderly
gentleman of substance, clothed as befitted a respectable dweller in
any American city except New York.

"Good evening," he said, looking at her pleasantly but inquiringly.
"Is Mrs. Del Garmo in?"

"Mrs. Del Garmo?" repeated Athalie, surprised. "Why, Mrs. Del Garmo is
dead!"

"God bless us!" he exclaimed in a shocked voice. "Is that so? Well,
I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. Well--well--well! Mrs. Del Garmo! I
certainly am sorry."

He looked curiously about him, shaking his head, and an absent
expression came into his white-bearded face--which changed to lively
interest when his eyes fell on the table where the crystal stood
mounted between the prongs of the bronze tripod.

"No doubt," he said, looking at Athalie, "you are Mrs. Del Garmo's
successor in the occult profession. I notice a crystal on the table."

And in that instant the inspiration came to the girl, and she took it
with the coolness and ruthlessness of last resort.

"What is it you wish?" she asked calmly, "a reading?"

He hesitated, looking at her out of aged but very honest eyes; and in
a moment she was at his mercy, and the game had gone against her. She
said, while the hot colour slowly stained her face: "I have never read
a cry