nk chiffon and lace tea-gown came forward to
greet Dorothy, rather than Max, to whom she gave merely an understanding
smile, while she held the girl's hand an instant.

"Max says this is your first visit to New York," she said, after she
had introduced her father and Nancy. "It is good of you to give us an
evening, when there are so many more amusing things to do, but Max
says we are as interesting as Bushmen or Hottentots. I hope you'll
find us so."

The hope seemed unlikely to be fulfilled, for while the presence of Mr.
Fenimer, who was rather a stickler for etiquette, prevented the perfect
freedom that had reigned at the Usshers', the talk turned on people whom
Dorothy did not know, and it was so quick and allusive that no outsider
could have followed it. Hickson, soon appreciating something in Miss
Lane's situation not utterly unlike his own, was touched by her obvious
isolation, and tried to make up for the neglect of the others. Riatt,
sitting between Nancy and Christine, had little time left to him for
observation of any one else.

When dinner was over Christine instantly drew him away to her own little
sitting-room, on pretense of showing him some letter of congratulation
that she had received. But once there, she shut the door, and standing
before it, she said, with an air of the deepest feeling:

"You're in love with this girl."

Riatt, who had sunk comfortably down on a sofa by the fire, looked up
in surprise.

"And if I am?" he answered.

"You need not humiliate me by making it so evident," she retorted, and
almost stamped her foot. "Lunching with her in public, and taking her to
tea, as I was told, getting here so late for dinner--I wish you could
have heard the way Nancy and Lee Linburne were goading me before dinner
about it."

"My dear Christine," said Max, and he was amused to hear a tone of real
conjugal remonstrance in his voice, "you have lunched and dined in one
day with Hickson, and yet I don't feel I have any grounds of complaint."

"Every one knows how little I care for Ned," she answered, "but people
say you do care for this little Western mouse. I hate her. She's good and
nice, and the kind of a girl men think it wise to marry, and just as
different from me as she can be. I do hate her--and I hate myself too."
And she covered her face with her hands.

"Come here, Christine," said Riatt, without moving, and was rather
surprised when she obeyed. He made her sit down beside him, and
t