ll around."

Nearly everybody has been waltzing. Marcia and her husband are present.
It was quite against his desire that Floyd extended an invitation to
Jasper Wilmarth, but he felt he could not do otherwise. He does not
mean to be over-cordial with his brother-in-law in the matter of
hospitalities. Wilmarth is proud of this victory, because he knows it
cost Floyd Grandon something. He is glad, too, of an opportunity of
becoming better acquainted with Mrs. Grandon. This does not altogether
mean conversing with her, although he has managed several passing
talks, but he likes to watch her, and the old thought comes into his
mind that with a little better planning he might have won her. A
half-suggestion of his had put the thought of Eugene Grandon in the
mind of St. Vincent, but he well knew that Eugene would only laugh such
a proposal to scorn. The factor he had not counted on was Floyd
himself.

Marcia is set wild with the first waltz. She is new to wifehood, and
she stands a little in awe of Jasper Wilmarth. There are people,
husbands, who object to it. Eugene is too late to secure madame, and
stands looking rather bored and sulky.

"Would you mind dancing it with me, just once?" says Marcia,
pleadingly.

"Of course not," he answers, indifferently.

"Eugene wants me to waltz with him," she whispers to her husband; and
he, in deep conversation with a neighbor, simply nods. There will be
time enough for marital training when the worship becomes irksome, and
he wants spice instead of sweet. They shall all see that Marcia has an
indulgent husband and is not to be commiserated. But when he sees Floyd
Grandon floating up and down with that lovely fairy-like figure in his
arms, he hates him more bitterly than before. Irene Lepelletier and
Jasper Wilmarth could well join hands here. The gulf between them is
not so very wide.

Marcia is up in the next waltz as well, but this time with an old
admirer. Eugene resists the glances of Lucia Brade and makes a
wall-flower of himself. He begins to watch Violet presently, and remark
with what entire perfection she waltzes. Who would have suspected it in
a little convent-bred girl? She _is_ pretty in spite of all detractions,
Laura has discovered. How her shining hair glitters, as if sprinkled
with diamond-dust.

Cecil comes running up to her after they have promenaded around among
the guests.

"Mamma," she exclaims, "that was just as we dance. Why can't you dance
with me he