nded to be greatly amused and to think it
extremely clever.

Mrs. Highcamp hung with languid but unaffected interest upon the warm
and impetuous volubility of her left-hand neighbor, Victor Lebrun.
Her attention was never for a moment withdrawn from him after seating
herself at table; and when he turned to Mrs. Merriman, who was prettier
and more vivacious than Mrs. Highcamp, she waited with easy indifference
for an opportunity to reclaim his attention. There was the occasional
sound of music, of mandolins, sufficiently removed to be an agreeable
accompaniment rather than an interruption to the conversation. Outside
the soft, monotonous splash of a fountain could be heard; the sound
penetrated into the room with the heavy odor of jessamine that came
through the open windows.

The golden shimmer of Edna's satin gown spread in rich folds on either
side of her. There was a soft fall of lace encircling her shoulders.
It was the color of her skin, without the glow, the myriad living tints
that one may sometimes discover in vibrant flesh. There was something in
her attitude, in her whole appearance when she leaned her head against
the high-backed chair and spread her arms, which suggested the regal
woman, the one who rules, who looks on, who stands alone.

But as she sat there amid her guests, she felt the old ennui overtaking
her; the hopelessness which so often assailed her, which came upon her
like an obsession, like something extraneous, independent of volition.
It was something which announced itself; a chill breath that seemed to
issue from some vast cavern wherein discords waited. There came over her
the acute longing which always summoned into her spiritual vision the
presence of the beloved one, overpowering her at once with a sense of
the unattainable.

The moments glided on, while a feeling of good fellowship passed around
the circle like a mystic cord, holding and binding these people together
with jest and laughter. Monsieur Ratignolle was the first to break the
pleasant charm. At ten o'clock he excused himself. Madame Ratignolle
was waiting for him at home. She was bien souffrante, and she was filled
with vague dread, which only her husband's presence could allay.

Mademoiselle Reisz arose with Monsieur Ratignolle, who offered to escort
her to the car. She had eaten well; she had tasted the good, rich wines,
and they must have turned her head, for she bowed pleasantly to all
as she withdrew from table. She