jewels, she was
majestic and imperious to a stunning degree, but to the young naval
officer--or shall we say detective--she suggested for the first time
the distinction of caste. The immeasurable distance created by the
millions of dollars and the social prestige of Belle Wellington and
those like her, served to set them aloof from their countrymen and
countrywomen. As she walked along at the side of her hulking husband
she seemed the very embodiment of the aloofness of her caste.
Heretofore, Jack had regarded her as a distinctly interesting,
remarkably well-preserved, middle-aged gentlewoman of striking
mentality, a woman whom he could like and enjoy. To-night, he
admitted, she inspired in him nothing but emotions of fear.

Mentally, he fortified himself against the appearance of Anne
Wellington, who, in truth, merited this precaution as she stepped past
him with a slight nod and went down the stairs. She was not a bit
overdone--Jack admitted that at once--and yet, how different she was
from the girl in the shirtwaist suit and black hat, whom he had seen
entering the sight-seeing barge the previous day, or who swathed in his
navy coat, his hat pushed down over her eyes, had stood with him on the
bridge of the _D'Estang_! She was all in white, slim, supple, without
jewelry, save for a string of pearls about her neck. A light, filmy
veil was thrown across her bare shoulders and the living curls and
waves of her flawless coiffure gleamed as they caught the lights of the
chandeliers. And yet--! The girlishness which Jack had found so
attractive in her, was missing, and so was the characteristic animation
of her features. Instead, her face was set in a formal, politely
interested expression, which to Armitage seemed to change her entire
personality. Yesterday she was radiant, light-hearted, impulsive, and
thoroughly lovable. To-night, she was, so to say, a professional
beauty, "rigged and trigged" for competition; one of a set whose
ambitions, apparently, coveted no triumphs more exalted than those to
be gained here, who rated artificiality as a fine art and appraised
life upon the basis of standards which even the casual observer would
hardly pronounce either moral or exalted.

[Illustration: To-night she was a professional beauty, "rigged and
trigged" for competition.]

As Armitage followed her graceful course to the side of her parents, he
groaned, half humorously, and then went wandering about the upper