ing fixedly ahead of him out of heavy, oriental eyes, and twisting
up his jet black, waxed moustache.

A tall, handsome girl called and enquired for Mr. Trenor. Dulcie
returned her amiable smile, unhooked the receiver, and telephoned up.
But nobody answered from Esme Trenor's apartment, and the girl, whose
name was Damaris Souval, and whose profession varied between the stage
and desultory sitting for artists, smiled once more on Dulcie and
sauntered out in her very charming summer gown.

The shabby child looked after her through the sunny hallway, the smile
still curving her lips--a sensitive, winning smile, untainted by envy.
Then she resumed her book, serenely clearing her youthful mind of
vanity and desire for earthly things.

Half an hour later Esme Trenor sauntered in. His was a sensitive
nature and fastidious, too. Dinginess, obscurity--everything that was
shabby, tarnished, humble in life, he consistently ignored. He had
ignored Dulcie Soane for three years: he ignored her now.

He glanced indifferently into his letter-box as he passed the desk.
Dulcie said, with the effort it always required for her to speak to
him:

"Miss Souval called, but left no message."

Trenor's supercilious glance rested on her for the fraction of a
second, then, with a bored nod, he continued on his way and up the
stairs. And Dulcie returned to her book.

The desk telephone rang: a Mrs. Helmund desired to speak to Mr.
Trenor. Dulcie switched her on, rested her chin on her hand, and
continued her reading.

Some time afterward the telephone rang again.

"Dragon Court," said Dulcie, mechanically.

"I wish to speak to Mr. Barres, please."

"Mr. Barres has not come in from luncheon."

"Are you sure?" said the pretty, feminine voice.

"Quite sure," replied Dulcie. "Wait a minute----"

She called Barres's apartment; Aristocrates answered and confirmed his
master's absence with courtly effusion.

"No, he is not in," repeated Dulcie. "Who shall I say called him?"

"Say that Miss Dunois called him up. If he comes in, say that Miss
Thessalie Dunois will come at five to take tea with him. Thank you.
Good-bye."

Startled to hear the very name against which her father had warned
her, Dulcie found it difficult to reconcile the sweet voice that came
to her over the wire with the voice of any such person her father had
described.

Still a trifle startled, she laid aside the receiver with a disturbed
glance toward the wrought-iro