o have changed
twice for her in a single evening. Out of that crowd of strangers had
come one who seemed to be a part of her old life. They had taken each
other up just where they had parted. The long breach in their lives had
been bridged. He had seemed the old friend and champion of her
childhood, who, since her aunt had revived her recollection of him, had
been a sort of romantic hero in her dreams. Their meeting had been such
as she had sometimes pictured to herself it would be. She believed him
finer, higher, than others. Then, suddenly, she had found that the
vision was but an idol of clay. All that her aunt had said of him had
been dashed to pieces in a trice.

He was not worthy of her notice. He was not a gentleman. He was what Mr.
Wickersham had called him. He had boasted to her of his intimacy with a
common dancing-girl. He had left her to fly to her and escort her home.

As Keith had left the house, Terpsichore had come out of the side
entrance, and they had met. Keith was just wondering how he could find
her, and he considered the meeting a fortunate one. She was in a state
of extreme agitation. It was the first time that she had undertaken to
dance at such an entertainment. She had refused, but had been
over-persuaded, and she declared it was all a plot between Wickersham
and her manager to ruin her. She would be even with them both, if she
had to take a pistol to right her wrongs.

Keith had little idea that the chief motive of her acceptance had been
the hope that she might find him among the company. He did what he could
to soothe her, and having made a promise to call upon her, he bade her
good-by, happily ignorant of the interpretation which she who had
suddenly sprung uppermost in his thoughts had, upon Wickersham's
instigation, put upon his action.

Keith walked home with a feeling to which he had been long a stranger.
He was somehow happier than he had been in years. A young girl had
changed the whole entertainment for him--the whole city--almost his
whole outlook on life. He had not felt this way for years--not since
Alice Yorke had darkened life for him. Could love be for him again?

The dial appeared to have turned back for him. He felt younger, fresher,
more hopeful. He walked out into the street and tried to look up at the
stars. The houses obscured them; they were hardly visible. The city
streets were no place for stars and sentiment. He would go through the
park and see them. So he strol