here
we first met, or at least first talked. Come, your hat and wraps, no
delay."

He assisted her into her long cloak, and laid her furs about her
shoulders.

"How can I pin on my hat," she asked desperately, "when you--"

"Yes? When I?" he said encouragingly. "Why are you blushing?"

"Nobody can properly pin on a hat when some one is kissing her," she
protested.

"I am from Missouri," he replied. "You must show me. In other words, I
doubt the assertion. Now, to prove it, you try to pin on your hat and I
will endeavor to kiss you at the same time."

"You will do nothing of the kind," she insisted. "You will go and stand
on the other side of the room. Ah--"

There was no room for further argument, the door was thrown open and Ydo,
brilliant, laughing, gorgeous as a tropical flower, entered. Behind her
loomed Wilfred Ames with all the radiance it was possible for his
stolidity to express.

"Here!" cried Ydo, the music of her laughter filling the room as her eyes
fell on Marcia. "Ah, I knew it! What did I tell you?" turning to Hayden.

"What do you mean?" cried Marcia, startled, flushing.

"I mean this," laughed Ydo. "That he," pointing to Hayden, "came to me
about noon, frantic over the disappearance of his claims on Eldorado.
After he had explained the circumstances to me I knew in a minute that
thou wert the woman. I didn't have to gaze into my crystal or run the
cards to see that. But why, why? I knew that you didn't take them
for--well, reasons that others might have taken them for; but why take
them at all?"

There was no gainsaying Ydo. "Because I thought some one else would take
them if I didn't," faltered Marcia.

"Meaning me!" Ydo's laughter seemed merciless to Marcia's shrinking ears.
"I don't mind the implication. But Wilfred, Bobby, to fancy I would do
anything so clumsy! Who says that women are not cruel to women?"

"Ydo, forgive me," pleaded Marcia, "I am humiliated, ashamed." Her voice
trembled.

Ydo's green eyes twinkled upon her. "Oh, la! la!" with a friendly,
careless little push. "Sweet, dainty lady of the butterflies, I have
nothing to forgive. I comprehend you, and he who understands all forgives
all. It is simply that you do not understand me. Shall the violet
understand the orchid? It is not a thing to think of again, so forget it
for ever.

"And speaking of orchids, Mr. Hayden, may I have a few to wear to-night
from that vase yonder? They will just suit my gown."

She moved w