tiful lady preferred to nibble. She nibbled
decoratively between peals of soft laughter and snatches of small talk.

The garcon in question noted--and officially ignored--that the lady, who
had at first worn a preoccupied, almost troubled, expression about her
dark eyes, now smiled more often, and that into the black pupils of
Carlos de Metuan there came frequently a glow which was akin to ardor.

In the same way he noticed that occasionally their hands met and
lingered, as the lady formed the habit of losing her handkerchief and
the gentleman habituated himself to its retrieving. A legal separation
cannot be established in a day, and if one must remain away from one's
friends at home, one may surely console oneself with friends abroad.

The duke was lavish in his entertainment. His wife's fortune permitted
that, as well as his wife's ignorance of the disbursements, and of late
Loraine's supply of money from America had arrived on a scale of
diminuendo. Entertainment was welcome.

Half-jokingly and veiled in phrases which she was at liberty to construe
as she wished, there had of late been an insidious vein of suggestion in
the duke's conversation.

"Were I not married and were you not married and were I able to convince
you with an eloquence which I lack, I think I might be happy," he
informed her one night as he studied his cigarette end in the dark. Then
he laughed and his hand sought hers as he added: "Yet, thank God a
thousand times, we live in a day when friendship need not go shackled by
dark-age absurdities." That had been the beginning.

"Friendship," she replied demurely, "has never had to be shackled, has
it?"

He leaned forward and she caught the glint of his eyes and a flash of
white teeth, as he answered:

"When friendship between man and woman is a feeble little fellow, he
goes free, but when he grows very strong, then his lot was not so easy
in other days. You understand me?"

"I'm sure I don't, but what matter?" she laughed. Carlos shrugged his
shoulders.

"Yes, what matter?" he murmured. "As long as we can be together, why
should we seek names for our companionship? It is--what it is."

Yet Loraine, still sure of her future, spelling a congenial and
luxurious life with Paul, understood what she pretended not to
understand. The Duke de Metuan was not a riddle to her; not even a
figure tinged with mystery. His wife was an unlovely invalid. Her sole
value was monetary, and the duke's hints an