the
floor. Hafiz, dozing on the bed, awoke, gazed at his mistress gravely,
yawned, and went to sleep again.

[Illustration: "His theme happened to be his own wonderful trap
record, that evening."]

Presently she dropped onto a chair by her little ivory-tinted Louis
XVI desk. There was a telephone there and a directory.

When she had decided to open the latter, and had found the number she
wanted, she unhooked the receiver and called for it.

After a few minutes somebody said that he was not in his room, but
that he was being paged.

She waited, dully attentive to the far noises which sounded over the
wire; then came a voice:

"Yes; who is it?"

She said: "I wished to speak to Mr. Bailey--Mr. Clive Bailey."

"I am Mr. Bailey."

For a moment the fact that she had not recognised his voice seemed to
strike her speechless. And it was only when he spoke again,
inquiringly, that she said in a low voice: "Clive!"

"Yes.... Is--is it _you_!"

"Yes."

And in the next heavily pulsating moment her breath came back with her
self-control:

"Why didn't you come, Clive?"

"I didn't imagine you wanted me."

"I asked Captain Dane to invite you."

"Did you know whom you were inviting?"

"No.... But I do now. Will you come?"

"Yes. When?"

"When you like. Come now if you like--unless you were engaged--"

"No--"

"What were you doing when I called you?"

"Nothing.... Walking about the lobby."

"Did you find it interesting?"

She heard him laugh--such a curious, strange, shaken laugh.

She said: "I shall be very glad to see you, Clive. There are some of
your friends here, too, who will be glad to see you."

"Then I'll wait until--"

"No; I had rather meet you for the first time when others are here--if
you don't mind. Do you?"

"No," he said, coolly; "I'll come."

"Now?"

"Yes, immediately."

Her heart was going at a terrific pace when she hung up the receiver.
She went to her mirror, turned on the side-lights, and looked at
herself. From the front room came the sound of the dance music, a
ripple or two of laughter. Welter's eager voice singing still of arms
and the man.

Long she stood there, motionless, studying herself, so that, when the
moment came that was coming now so swiftly upon her, she might know
what she appeared like in his eyes.

All, so far, was sheer, fresh youth with her; her eyes had not lost
their dewy beauty; the splendour of her hair remained unchanged. There
were no lines