nge?" said the singer to Laura. "I stole in here to
look at the trophies, when I discovered Mr. Breitmann whom I once knew
in Munich."

"Mr. Cathewe," said the young hostess, "this is Mr. Breitmann, who is
aiding father in the compilation of his book."

"Mr. Breitmann and I have met before," said Cathewe soberly.

The two men bowed. Cathewe never gave his hand to any but his
intimates. But Laura, who was not aware of this ancient reserve,
thought that both of them showed a lack of warmth. And Fitzgerald, who
was watching all comers now, was sure that the past of his friend and
Breitmann interlaced in some way.

"So, young man," said Mrs. Coldfield, a handsome motherly woman, "you
have had the impudence to let five years pass without darkening my
doors. What excuse have you?"

"I'm guilty of anything you say," Fitzgerald answered humbly. "What
shall be my punishment?"

"You shall take Miss Laura in and I shall sit at your left."

"For my sins it shall be as you say. But, really, I have been so
little in New York," he added.

"I forgive you simply because you have not made a failure of your
mother's son. And you look like her, too." It is one of the
privileges of old persons to compare the young with this or that parent.

"You are flattering me. Dad used to say that I was as homely as a
hedge-fence."

"Now you're fishing, and I'm too old a fish to rise to such a cast."

"I heard you sing in Paris a few years ago," said M. Ferraud.

"Yes?" Hildegarde von Mitter wondered who this little man could be.

"And you sing no more?"

"No. The bird has flown; only the woman remains." They were at the
table now, and she absently plucked the flowers beside her plate.

"Ah, to sing as you did, and then to disappear, to vanish! You had no
right to do so. You belonged to the public," animatedly.

"The public is always selfish; it always demands more than any single
person can give to it. Pardon?" she said as Cathewe leaned to speak to
her. "I did not hear."

M. Ferraud nibbled his crisp celery.

"I asked, what will you do?" repeated Cathewe for her ear only.

"What do you mean?"

"Did you know that he was here?"

"I should not have been seated at this table had I known."

"Some day you are going to tell me all about it," he asserted; "and you
are going to smile when you answer me."

"Thank you. I forgot. My dear friend, I am never going to tell you
all about it. Why did you not come first?