graph message for him; and he came
back chewing his cigar.

Finally his uneasiness drew him to his feet again:

"Rue," he said, "I'm going out to telephone to Mr. Stull. It may take
some little time. You don't mind waiting, do you?"

"No," she said.

"Don't you want another ice or something?"

She confessed that she did.

So he ordered it and went away.

As she sat leisurely tasting her ice and watching with unflagging
interest the people around her, she noticed that the dining-room was
already three-quarters empty. People were leaving for cafe, theatre,
or dance; few remained.

Of these few, two young men in evening dress now arose and walked
toward the lobby, one ahead of the other. One went out; the other, in
the act of going, glanced casually at her as he passed, hesitated,
halted, then, half smiling, half inquiringly, came toward her.

"Jim Neeland!" she exclaimed impulsively. "--I mean _Mr._ Neeland----"
a riot of colour flooding her face. But her eager hand remained
outstretched. He took it, pressed it lightly, ceremoniously, and,
still standing, continued to smile down at her.

Amid all this strange, infernal glitter; amid a city of six million
strangers, suddenly to encounter a familiar face--to see
somebody--anybody--from Gayfield--seemed a miracle too delightful to
be true.

"You are Rue Carew," he said. "I was not certain for a moment. You
know we met only once before."

Rue, conscious of the startled intimacy of her first greeting, blushed
with the memory. But Neeland was a tactful young man; he said easily,
with his very engaging smile:

"It was nice of you to remember me so frankly and warmly. You have no
idea how pleasant it was to hear a Gayfield voice greet me as 'Jim.'"

"I--didn't intend to----"

"Please intend it in future, Rue. You don't mind, do you?"

"No."

"And will you ever forget that magnificent winter night when we drove
to Brookhollow after the party?"

"I have--remembered it."

"So have I.... Are you waiting for somebody? Of course you are," he
added, laughing. "But may I sit down for a moment?"

"Yes, I wish you would."

So he seated himself, lighted a cigarette, glanced up at her and
smiled.

"When did you come to New York?" he asked.

"Tonight."

"Well, isn't that a bit of luck to run into you like this! Have you
come here to study art?"

"No.... Yes, I think, later, I am to study art here."

"At the League?"

"I don't know."

"Better go to the