she was at liberty to meet men's eyes and
study them with interest. There was no danger. It was they who turned
away from her--after a glance at Monte. It amused her to watch them
turn away; it gave her a new sense of power. But of one thing she was
certain: there was not a man in the lot with whom she would have felt
comfortable to be here as she felt comfortable with Monte.

Monte was having a very pleasant time of it. The thing that surprised
him was the way Marjory quickened his zest in old things that had
become stale. Here, for instance, she took him back to the days when
he had responded with a piquant tingle to the lights and the music and
the gay Parisian chatter, to the quick glance of smiling eyes where
adventure lurked. He had been content to observe without accepting the
challenges, principally because he lived mostly in the sunshine.
To-night, in a clean, decent way, he felt again the old tingle. But
this time it came from a different source. When Marjory raised her
eyes to his, the lights blazed as brilliantly as if a hundred new ones
had been lighted; the music mixed with his blood until his thoughts
danced.

With the coffee he lighted a cigarette and leaned back contentedly
until it was time to go.

As they went out of the room, he was aware that once again all eyes
were turned toward her, so that he threw back his shoulders a little
farther than usual and looked about with some scorn at those who had
with them only ordinary women.

The comedy at the Gymnase was sufficiently amusing to hold her
attention, and that was the best she could ask for; but Monte watched
it indifferently, resenting the fact that it did hold her attention.
Besides, there were too many people all about her here. For two hours
and a half it was as if she had gone back into the crowd. He was glad
when the final curtain rang down and he was able to take her arm and
guide her out.

"Maxim's next?" he inquired.

"Do you want to go?" she asked.

"It's for you to decide," he answered.

She was dead tired by now, but she did not dare to stop.

"All right," she said; "we'll go."

It was a harlequin crowd at Maxim's--a noisier, tenser, more hectic
crowd than at the Riche. The room was gray with smoke, and everywhere
she looked were gold-tipped wine bottles. Though it was still early,
there was much hysterical laughter and much tossing about of long
streamers of colored paper and confetti. As they entered she
ins