I don't believe any girl ever lived
who'd prefer fishing on that foggy lake at night to dancing at such a
party as you are going to to-night."

"Aren't you going?" asked Thessalie, but Lee shook her head, still
smiling.

"We have two young setters down with distemper, and mother and I
always sit up with our dogs under such circumstances."

Personal devotion of this sort was new to Thessalie. Mrs. Barres and
Lee told her all about the dreaded contagion and how very dreadful an
epidemic might be in a kennel of such finely bred dogs as was the
well-known Foreland Kennels.

Dog talk absorbed everybody during dinner. Mrs. Barres and Lee were
intensely interested in Thessalie's description of the Grand Duke
Cyril's Russian wolfhounds, with which she had coursed and hunted as a
child.

Once she spoke, also, of those strange, pathetic, melancholy
Ishmaelites, pitiable outcasts of their race--the pariah dogs of
Constantinople. For, somehow, while dressing that evening, the distant
complaint of a tethered beagle had made her think of Stamboul. And she
remembered that night so long ago on the moonlit deck of the _Mirage_,
where she had stood with Ferez Bey while, from the unseen, monstrous
city close at hand, arose the endless wailing of homeless dogs.

How strange it was, too, to think that the owner of the _Mirage_
should this night be her host here in the Western World, yet remain
unconscious that he had ever before entertained her.

* * * * *

Before coffee had been served in the entrance hall, the kennel master
sent in word that one of the pups, a promising Blue Belton, had turned
very sick indeed, and would Mrs. Barres come to the kennels as soon as
convenient.

It was enough for Mrs. Barres and for Lee; they both excused
themselves without further ceremony and went away together to the
kennels, apparently quite oblivious of their delicate dinner gowns and
slippers.

"I've seen my mother ruin many a gown on such errands," remarked
Garry, smiling. "No use offering yourself as substitute; my mother
would as soon abandon her own sick baby to strangers as turn over an
ailing pup to anybody except Lee and herself."

"I think that is very splendid," murmured Dulcie, relinquishing her
coffee cup to Garry and suffering a maid to invest her with a scarf
and light silk wrap.

"My mother _is_ splendid," said Garry in a low voice. "You will see
her prove it some day, I hope."

The girl