looking for,"
she declared enthusiastically. "You darling!... Making people happy! It
would be something for the club, too.... Yes," she concluded decisively,
"I'll do it!"

"Do what?" Mrs. Delancy questioned, bewildered by the swift succession
of moods in the girl she loved, yet could never quite understand.

"You just wait, Aunt Emma," was the baffling answer.

Mrs. Delancy turned at the door, and spoke grimly:

"My dear Cicily," she said, "you're getting to be quite as reticent as
your uncle and Charles."

But the girl disdained any retort to the gibe. Instead, she was saying
softly, over and over: "Making other people happy! Making other people
happy!"

CHAPTER III

Cicily Hamilton was inclined to be captious with her maid as she dressed
that evening. She was finical to the point of absurdity even, which is
often the fault of beauty, and perhaps a fault not altogether
unbecoming, since its aim is the last elaboration of loveliness. Indeed,
the fault becomes a virtue, when its motive lies in the desire to attain
supreme charm for the one beloved. It was so with the young wife
to-night. She was filled with anxious longing to display her beauty in
its full measure for the pleasuring of the man to whom she had given her
whole heart. For that fond purpose, she was curt with her maid, and
reproachful with herself. She was deeply troubled by the thought that a
darker shade to her brows might enhance the brilliance of her eyes. She
hesitated before, but finally resisted, a temptation to use a touch of
pencil to gain the effect. She was exceedingly querulous over the
coiling of her tresses into the crown that added so regally to the
dignity of her bearing. The selection of the gown was a matter for
profound deliberation, and ended in a mood of dubiety. That passed,
however, when at last she surveyed her length in the cheval glass. Then,
she became aware, beyond peradventure of doubt, that the white lacery of
silk, molded to her slender form and interwoven with heavy threads of
gold, was supremely becoming. The gleam of precious metal in the fabric
scorned to transmute the amber of her eyes into a glory of gold. The
pearls of her necklace harmonized with the warm pallor of her
complexion.

Despite the pains taken, there remained time to spare before the dinner
hour, when the toilette had been thus happily completed. As she was
about to dismiss the maid, Cicily bethought her to ask a question.

"Has Mr. Ha