imitation of Girardon's fountain splashed in
the center of the room and cooled the air.

Claude arrived late. He did so partly to compromise with his
compunctions and partly to accentuate his value. In gatherings at which
young men were sometimes at a premium none knew better than he the
heightened worth of one who sauntered in when no more were to be looked
for, and who carried himself with distinction. Handsome at any time,
Claude rose above his own levels when he was in evening dress. His
figure was made for a white waistcoat, his feet for dancing-pumps.
Moreover, he knew how to enter a room with that modesty which prompts a
hostess to be encouraging. As he stood rather timidly in the doorway,
long after the little receiving group had broken up, Mrs. Darling said
to herself that she had never seen a more attractive young man--whoever
he was!

She was glad afterward that she had made this reservation, for without
it she might have been prejudiced against him on learning that he was
Archie Masterman's son. As it was, she could feel that the sins of the
fathers were not to be visited on the children, especially in the case
of so delightful a lad. Mrs. Darling had an eye for masculine good
looks, particularly when they were accompanied by a suggestion of the
thoroughbred. Claude's very shyness--the gentlemanly hesitation which on
the threshold of a ball-room has no dandified airs of seeming too much
at ease--had this suggestion of the thoroughbred. Mrs. Darling, dragging
a long, pink train and waving slowly a bespangled pink fan, moved toward
him at once.

"How d'w do? So glad to see you! I'm afraid my daughter is dancing."

There was something in her manner that told him she had no idea who he
was--something that could be combined with polite welcome only by one
born to be a hostess.

Claude had that ready perception of his role which makes for social
success. He bowed with the right inclination, and spoke with a gravity
dictated by respect. "I'm afraid I must introduce myself, Mrs. Darling.
I'm so late. I'm Claude Masterman. My father is--"

"Oh, they're here! So lovely your mother looks! Really there's not a
young girl in the room can touch her. Won't you find some one and dance?
I'm sorry my daughter--But later on I'll find her and intro--Why,
Maidie, there you are! I thought you'd never come. How d'w do, dear?"

A more important guest than himself being greeted, Claude felt at
liberty to move on a pace or t