and his voice came in gusts.

"Think of it!" he said. "It's wonderful! It's glorious!"

Lord Robert's glass had dropped from his eye, and he was laughing in his
drawling way.

"What are you laughing at? Women like these are at least natural, and
Nature can not be put on."

The mazurka had just finished, and the dancers were breaking into groups.

"Robert, tell me who is that girl over there--the one looking this way?
Is it your friend?"

Lord Robert readjusted his glass.

"The pretty dark girl with the pink-and-white cheeks, like a doll?"

"Yes; and the taller one beside her--all hair, and eyes, and bosom. She's
looking across now. I've seen that girl before somewhere. Now, where have
I seen her? Look at her--what fire, and life, and movement! The dance is
over, but she can't keep her feet still."

"I see--I see. But let me introduce you to the matron and doctors first,
and then----"

"I know now--I know where I've seen her! Be quick, Robert, be quick!"

Lord Robert laughed again in his tired drawl. He was finding it very
amusing.

XI.

When Glory learned that all nurses eligible to attend the ball were to
wear hospital uniform, being on day duty she decided to go to it. But
then came John Storm's protest against the company of Polly Love, and she
felt half inclined to give it up. As often as she remembered his
remonstrance she was disturbed, and once or twice when alone she shed
tears of anger and vexation.

Meantime Polly was full of arrangements, and Glory found herself day by
day carried along in the stream of preparation. When the night came the
girls dressed in the same cubicle. Polly was prattling like a parrot, but
Glory was silent and almost sad.

By help of the curling tongs and a candle Polly did up her dark hair into
little knowing curls that went in and out on her temples and played
hide-and-seek around the pretty shells of her pink-and-white ears. Glory
was slashing the comb through her golden-red hair by way of preliminary
ploughing, when Polly cried: "Stop! Don't touch it any more, for
goodness' sake! It's perfect! Look at yourself now."

Glory stood off from the looking glass and looked. "Am I really so nice?"
she thought; and then she remembered John Storm again, and had half a
mind to tear down her glorious curls and go straight away to bed.

She went to the ball instead, and, being there, she forgot all about her
misgivings. The light, the colour, the brilliance, the perfu