ll means," he insisted. "I should like to watch you."

She nodded, and a minute or two later she had joined the small crowd in
the center of the room, clasped in the arms of a very immaculate young
man who had risen and bowed to her from a table opposite. John leaned
back in his place and watched her admiringly. Her feet scarcely touched
the ground. She never once glanced at or spoke to her partner, but every
time she passed the corner where John was sitting, she looked at him and
smiled.

He, for his part, watched her no longer with pleasant interest, but with
almost fascinated eyes. The spirit of the place was creeping into his
blood. His long years of seclusion seemed like a spell of time lying
curiously far away, a crude period, mislived in an atmosphere which,
notwithstanding its austere sweetness, took no account of the human cry.
He refilled his glass with champagne and deliberately drank its
contents. It was splendid to feel so young and strong, to feel the wine
in his veins, his pulse and his heart moving to this new measure!

His eyes grew brighter, and he smiled back at Sophy. She suddenly
released her hold upon her partner and stretched out her arms to him.
Her body swayed backward a little. She waved her hands with a gesture
infinitely graceful, subtly alluring. Her lips were parted with a smile
almost of triumph as she once more rested her hand upon her partner's
shoulder.

"Who is your escort this evening?" the latter asked her, speaking almost
for the first time.

"You would not know him," she replied. "He is a Mr. John Strangewey, and
he comes from Cumberland."

"Just happens that I do know him," the young man remarked. "Thought I'd
seen his face somewhere. Used to be up at the varsity with him. We once
played rackets together. Hasn't he come into a pile just lately?"

"An uncle in Australia left him a fortune."

"I'll speak to him presently," the young man decided. "Always make a
point of being civil to anybody with lots of oof!"

"I expect he'll be glad to meet you again," Sophy remarked. "He doesn't
know a soul in town."

The dance was finished. They returned together to where John was
sitting, and the young man held out a weary hand.

"Amerton, you know, of Magdalen," he said. "You're Strangewey, aren't
you?"

"Lord Amerton, of course!" John exclaimed. "I thought your face was
familiar. Why, we played in the rackets doubles together!"

"And won 'em, thanks to you," Amerton replied. "