, and had a wasp-waist which, when he bowed--as he did
irritatingly often--seemed liable to snap in two. It was if anything
more slender than her own, and she disliked him for it. Lady Dauntrey
had Mrs. Collis on her hands, and looked sombrely discontented. But she
waked up at sight of Mary. The long, pale eyes between black fringes
followed the blue and silver-gold figure with silent interest. Then the
handsome face became subtle and greedy.

As Mary was piloted outside the crowd by Madame d'Ambre, four young
women separated themselves hastily from the group round the table, and
bore down upon the pair. They were young, or else clinging desperately
to the ragged edges of their youth, and all four were dressed in clothes
which had been beautiful. They knew Madame d'Ambre, knew her very well
indeed, for they called her "Madeleine" or "Chere Lena." Nevertheless,
she did not appear pleased to see them.

"Bon soir, mes amies," she said evasively, and would have passed on,
but, laughingly, they stopped her. One, who had a marvellous complexion,
large black eyes, and bright golden hair, exclaimed, with a charming
Parisian accent, that they could not let their Madeleine leave them like
that. They had been waiting to congratulate her friend.

"We pray that thou wilt introduce us, dear one," the spokeswoman
suggested. "Surely Mademoiselle wishes to add to her happiness by making
others happy?" She turned a swimming gaze upon Mary. "Figure to
yourself, Mademoiselle; we are unlucky; four companions in misery. It is
our bad luck which has united us. Our jewels are all pawned. Not one of
us has eaten anything since the first _dejeuner_. And we have a hunger!"

Mary stared, disconcerted by this tale of misfortune suddenly flung at
her head, and scarcely sure if it were not a practical joke. The four
young women were so charmingly dressed, their hair was so carefully
waved, their complexions so pink and white, that it was impossible to
believe in their poverty. Besides, they could evidently afford perfume,
so luscious that it must be expensive. Mary thought that they smelled
very good; then, a little too good; then, far, far too good, and at last
almost unbearable.

"You are joking," she said, timidly.

"Indeed we are not," replied another of the group, a red-haired girl
with brown, almond-shaped eyes. "We so hope that you will be an angel,
and invite us all to supper."

"What nonsense, Clotilde!" exclaimed Madame d'Ambre. "We