was some rich man's
mistress, recently imported, snatched from some victim of revolution
who could no longer afford her. Blonde madonnas were always under
suspicion unless you knew all about them. Others, more practical,
scoffed at these fancy theories and asserted roundly that she was
either a Russian refugee who had sound American or English investments,
or some American woman, educated abroad, who knew no one in New York
and amused herself at the theatre. Indeed? Why then should an
obviously wealthy young woman of as obviously good birth and breeding
bring no letters? Something crooked, not a doubt of it. A European
girl or young widow of position would never come to America without a
chaperon; nor an American brought up abroad. A woman with that "air"
knows what's what. She's simply put herself beyond the pale and
doesn't care. Some impoverished woman of the noblesse who has taken up
with a rich man.

The men would have liked to put a detective on the track of every
millionaire in town.

Clavering had confided in no one, and Mr. Dinwiddie, although he had
attended a party given by one of the most hospitable of the
Sophisticates where the unknown was discussed from cocktail to
cocktail, and where, forgetting his arteries, he had befuddled himself
at the generous fount, had guarded his tongue. To Clavering he had
been unable to extend either hope or information. Mrs. Oglethorpe had
turned a bleak and rigid countenance upon the friend of her youth when
he had called with an eager ear, and forbidden him tartly ever to
mention the subject to her again.

"Interview must have been devilish unpleasant to curdle poor old Jane
like that," he had commented. "No doubt the girl showed her the door.
Gad! Jane! But Mary's daughter could do it. None better."

Clavering was deeply disappointed. He turned a scowling back on the
gossips rending The Topic to tatters. New York must have a new Topic
every season. This girl had arrived in a season of dearth. And,
unless she were discovered to be living in absolute flagrancy, they
would throw down the carpet. Some went even further. After all, what
about . . .

But there seemed to be not the remotest prospect of meeting her, nor
even of solving the mystery. She had been seen striding round the
reservoir in a short skirt and high laced boots of soft pale leather.
One triumphant woman had stood next to her at a glove counter and
overheard her observe to the cler