t were too large for him; people ranged themselves for the
lancers in lines and squares. Maurice lost sight for a moment of the
couple he was watching. As soon as the dance began, however, he saw
them again; they were waltzing to the FRANCAISE, at the lower end of
the hall.

He was driven from the corner in which he had taken refuge, by hearing
some one behind him say, in an angry whisper: "I call it positively
horrid of her to come." It was Susie Fay who spoke; through some
oversight, she had not been asked to dance. Moving slowly along, behind
the couples that began a schottische, he felt a tap on his arm, and,
looking round, saw Miss Jensen. She swept aside her ample skirts, and
invited him to a seat beside her. But he remained standing.

"You don't care for dancing?" she queried. And, when he had replied:
"Well, say, now, Mr. Guest,--we are all dying to know--however have you
gotten Louise Dufrayer along here this evening? It's the queerest thing
out."

"Indeed?" said the young man drily.

"Well, maybe queer is not just the word. But, why, we all presumed she
was perfectly inconsolable--thinking only of another world. That's so.
And then you work a miracle, and out she pops, fit as can be."

"I persuaded her ... for the sake of variety," mumbled Maurice.

Little Fauvre, the baritone, had come up; but Miss Jensen did not heed
his meek reminder that this was their dance.

"That was excessively kind of you," said the big woman, and looked at
Maurice with shrewd, good-natured eyes. "And no doubt, Louise is most
grateful. She seems to be enjoying herself. Keep quiet, Fauvre, do,
till I am ready.--But I don't like her dress. It's a lovely goods, and
no mistake. But it ain't suitable for a little hop like this. It's too
much."

"How Miss Dufrayer dresses is none of my business."

"Well, maybe not.--Now, Fauvre, come along"--she called it "Fover." "I
reckon you think you've waited long enough."

Maurice, left to himself again, was astonished to hear Madeleine's
voice in his ear. She had made her way to him alone.

"For goodness' sake, pull yourself together," she said cuttingly.
"Every one in the hall can see what's the matter with you."

Before he could answer, she was claimed by her partner--one of the few
Germans scattered through this Anglo-American gathering. "Is zat your
brozzer?" Maurice heard him ask as they moved away. He watched them
dancing together, and found it a ridiculous sight: round Madeleine,