and had always managed to have a very jolly time. He
had been very quiet since his father's death and had hardly gone out at
all; in fact, since Ida Wade's death and his trip down the coast he had
seen none of his acquaintances except the boys. But he determined now
that he would go to this dance and in so doing return once more to the
world that he knew. By this time he had become pretty well accustomed to
his father's death and saw no reason why he should not have a good time.

At first he thought he would ask Turner to go with him, but in the end
made up his mind to go alone, instead; one always had a better time when
one went alone. Young Haight would have liked to have asked Turner, but
did not because he supposed, of course, that Vandover would take her. In
the end Turner had Delphine act as her escort.

Vandover arrived at Henrietta Vance's house at about half-past eight. A
couple of workmen were stretching the last guy ropes of the awning that
reached over the sidewalk; every window of the house was lighted. The
front door was opened for the guest before he could ring, and he passed
up the stairs, catching a glimpse of the parlours through the portieres
of the doors. As yet they were empty of guests, the floors were covered
with canvas, and the walls decorated with fern leaves. In a window
recess one of the caterer's men was setting out two punch bowls and a
multitude of glass cups; three or four musicians were gathered about the
piano, tuning up, and one heard the subdued note of a cornet; the air
was heavy with the smell of pinks and of La France roses.

At the turn of the stairs the Vances' second girl in a white lawn cap
directed him to the gentlemen's dressing-room, which was the room of
Henrietta Vance's older brother. About a dozen men were here before him,
some rolling up their overcoats into balls and stowing them with their
canes in the corners of the room; others laughing and smoking together,
and still others who were either brushing their hair before the mirrors
or sitting on the bed in their stocking feet, breathing upon their
patent leathers, warming them before putting them on. There were one or
two who knew no one and who stood about unhappily, twisting the tissue
paper from the buttons of their new gloves, and looking stupidly at the
pictures on the walls of the room. Occasionally one of the gentlemen
would step to the door and look out into the hall to see if the ladies
whom they were escort