fro with ices and
salads, and set the white-covered tables with silverware and crystal.

A dainty masked figure in demon red flitted across his path in the
uncanny radiance. He hailed her, and she turned, hesitated, then, as
though convinced of his identity, laughed, and hastened on with a nod
of invitation.

"Where are you going, pretty mask?" he inquired, wending his pace and
trying to recognise the costume in the uncertain cross light.

But she merely laughed and continued to retreat before him, keeping the
distance between them, hastening her steps whenever he struck a faster
gait, pausing and looking back at him with a mocking smile when his
steps slackened; a gracefully malicious, tormenting, laughing creature
of lace and silk, whose retreat was a challenge, whose every movement
and gesture seemed instinct with the witchery of provocation.

On the edge of the ring of tables she paused, picked up a goblet, held
it out to a passing servant, who immediately filled the glass.

Then, before Duane could catch her, she drained the goblet to his health
and fled into the shadows, he hard on her heels, pressing her closer,
closer, until the pace became too hot for her, and she turned to face
him, panting and covering her masked face with her fan.

"Now, my fair unknown, we shall pay a few penalties," he said with
satisfaction; but she defended herself so adroitly that he could not
reach her mask.

"Be fair to me," she gasped at last; "why are you so rough with me
when--when you need not be? I knew you at once, Jack."

And she dropped her arms, standing resistless, breathing fast, her
masked face frankly upturned to be kissed.

"Now, who the devil," thought Duane, "have I got in my arms? And for
whom does she take me?"

He gazed searchingly into the slitted eye-holes; the eyes appeared to be
blue, as well as he could make out. He looked at the fresh laughing
mouth, a young, sensitive mouth, which even in laughter seemed not
entirely gay.

"Don't you really mind if I kiss you?" He spoke in a whisper to disguise
his voice.

"Isn't it a little late to ask me that?" she said; and under her mask
the colour stained her skin. "I think what we do now scarcely matters."

She was so confident, so plainly awaiting his caress, that for a moment
he was quite ready to console her. And did not, could not, with the
fragrant and yielding intimacy of Geraldine still warm in his quickened
heart.

She stood quite motionless,