; and he hurried on.

Further ahead he came to the homes of the wealthy,--great piles of stone
and brick, that seemed more like hotels than residences. The forbidding
darkness of many of the houses testified that their owners were out of
town, at the seaside or among the mountains; but others were brilliantly
lighted from basement to roof. Before one a long line of carriages was
drawn up. Stiffly liveried footmen, impassive as automatons, waited the
erratic pleasure of their masters. A little group of spectators was
already gathered, and Ben likewise paused, observing the spectacle
curiously.

A social event of some sort was in progress. From some concealed place
came the music of a string orchestra. Every window of the great pile was
open for ventilation, and Ben could hear and see almost as plainly as
the guests themselves. For a time, deep, insistent, throbbing in
measured beat, came the drone of the 'cello, the wail of the clarionet,
and, faintly audible beneath, the rustle of moving feet. Then the music
ceased; and a few seconds later a throng of heated dancers swarmed
through the open doorway to the surrounding veranda, and simultaneously
a chatter broke forth. Fans, like gigantic butterfly wings, vibrated to
and fro. Skilful waiters, in black and white, glanced in and out.
Laughter, thoughtless and care-free, mingled in the general scene.

The music still, Ben Blair was about to move on, when suddenly a man and
a girl in the shadow of a window on the second floor caught and held his
attention. As far as he could see, they were alone. Evidently one or the
other of them knew the house intimately, and had deliberately sought the
place. From the veranda beneath, the flow of talk continued
uninterruptedly; but they gave it no attention. The spectator could
distinctly see the man as he leaned back in the light and spoke
earnestly. At times he gesticulated with rapid passionate motions, such
as one unconsciously uses when deeply absorbed. Now and again, with the
bodily motions that we have learned to connect with the French, his
shoulders were shrugged expressively. He was obviously talking against
time; for his every motion showed intense concentration. No spectator
could have mistaken the nature of his speech. Passion supreme, abandon
absolute, were here personified. As he spoke, he gradually leaned
farther forward toward the woman who listened. His face was no longer in
the light. Suddenly, at first low, as though