ked
again. Something was wanting. Oh, yes, her neck! What to wear--red
coral? It did not look right. A string of pearls? That would not do
either. There was a necklace made of small cameos set in silver which
her mother had purchased, and another of diamonds which belonged to her
mother, but they were not right. Finally, her jet necklet, which she
did not value very highly, came into her mind, and, oh, how lovely it
looked! How soft and smooth and glistening her chin looked above it. She
caressed her neck affectionately, called for her black lace mantilla,
her long, black silk dolman lined with red, and she was ready.

The ball-room, as she entered, was lovely enough. The young men and
young women she saw there were interesting, and she was not wanting
for admirers. The most aggressive of these youths--the most
forceful--recognized in this maiden a fillip to life, a sting to
existence. She was as a honey-jar surrounded by too hungry flies.

But it occurred to her, as her dance-list was filling up, that there was
not much left for Mr. Cowperwood, if he should care to dance with her.

Cowperwood was meditating, as he received the last of the guests, on the
subtlety of this matter of the sex arrangement of life. Two sexes. He
was not at all sure that there was any law governing them. By comparison
now with Aileen Butler, his wife looked rather dull, quite too old, and
when he was ten years older she would look very much older.

"Oh, yes, Ellsworth had made quite an attractive arrangement out of
these two houses--better than we ever thought he could do." He was
talking to Henry Hale Sanderson, a young banker. "He had the advantage
of combining two into one, and I think he's done more with my little
one, considering the limitations of space, than he has with this big
one. Father's has the advantage of size. I tell the old gentleman he's
simply built a lean-to for me."

His father and a number of his cronies were over in the dining-room of
his grand home, glad to get away from the crowd. He would have to stay,
and, besides, he wanted to. Had he better dance with Aileen? His wife
cared little for dancing, but he would have to dance with her at least
once. There was Mrs. Seneca Davis smiling at him, and Aileen. By George,
how wonderful! What a girl!

"I suppose your dance-list is full to overflowing. Let me see." He was
standing before her and she was holding out the little blue-bordered,
gold-monogrammed booklet. An orch