tes. Have you observed it?"

"Yes--that is, at a distance. Do you think her very handsome?"

"Mrs. Fairbrother? She's called so, but she's not my style." Here he
gave me a killing glance. "I admire women of mind and heart. They do not
need to wear jewels worth an ordinary man's fortune."

I looked about for an excuse to leave this none too desirable partner.

"Let us go back into the long hall," I urged. "The ceaseless whirl of
these dancers is making me dizzy."

With the ease of a gallant man he took me on his arm and soon we were
promenading again in the direction of the alcove. A passing glimpse of
its interior was afforded me as we turned to retrace our steps in front
of the yellow divan. The lady with the diamond was still there. A fold
of the superb pink velvet she wore protruded across the gap made by the
half-drawn curtains, just as it had done a half-hour before. But it
was impossible to see her face or who was with her. What I could see,
however, and did, was the figure of a man leaning against the wall at
the foot of the steps. At first I thought this person unknown to me,
then I perceived that he was no other than the chief guest of the
evening, the Englishman of whom I have previously spoken.

His expression had altered. He looked now both anxious and absorbed,
particularly anxious and particularly absorbed; so much so that I was
not surprised that no one ventured to approach him. Again I wondered and
again I asked myself for whom or for what he was waiting. For Mr. Durand
to leave this lady's presence? No, no, I would not believe that. Mr.
Durand could not be there still; yet some women make it difficult for
a man to leave them and, realizing this, I could not forbear casting
a parting glance behind me as, yielding to Mr. Fox's importunities, I
turned toward the supper-room. It showed me the Englishman in the act
of lifting two cups of coffee from a small table standing near the
reception-room door. As his manner plainly betokened whither he was
bound with this refreshment, I felt all my uneasiness vanish, and
was able to take my seat at one of the small tables with which the
supper-room was filled, and for a few minutes, at least, lend an ear
to Mr. Fox's vapid compliments and trite opinions. Then my attention
wandered.

I had not moved nor had I shifted my gaze from the scene before me the
ordinary scene of a gay and well-filled supper-room, yet I found myself
looking, as if through a mist I had n