no hint of invitation.

"Ah, wasn't I right! She discriminates--our auburn lady! We'll see
something interesting before the night is out, mark my words!"

They half forgot her and her possible story in the hour that followed,
though Max noted that the woman who wanders from party to party at the
Rat Mort, distributing roses, paused twice by her table and spoke to
her, each time departing without unburdening herself of her wares; also,
he noted that the pallid little Spaniard, who had been scattering his
attentions among the ladies unprovided with companions, came and bowed
before her, and that, contrary to her impression of aloofness, she rose
and danced a waltz with him.

At this episode of the dance, Blake's eyes as well as the boy's were
attracted; and, as she glided up and down between the tables, cool,
unmoved, seemingly indifferent to the world about her, his interest
reawakened, and he cast a sidelong glance at Max.

"Wait!" he said. "When you see that guarded look in a woman's eyes, you
may always know she's expecting something."

Even as he spoke, she returned to her solitary table, dismissing the
Spaniard with an inclination of the head and, as she seated herself,
both observers saw a change pass over her face--saw her gaze narrow and
turn toward the door--saw a faint flush touch her cheeks and recede,
leaving them paler than before.

It was a controlled emotion, almost imperceptible--differing in essence
from either the latent violence of the woman Lize or the artless
impulsiveness of the little Jacqueline; but with certain intuition it
sent Max's glance winging to the door of the supper-room, assured that
some issue in the subtle war of sex was about to be fought out.

A new party was entering the room--a small dark _Parisienne_, bringing
in her wake two Englishmen--one brown--the other fair, with the accepted
Saxon fairness.

Down the long room the little lady came, ushered by obsequious waiters,
the recipient of many glances, admiring or envious; close behind her
followed the brown-haired Englishman and, a little in the rear, her
second cavalier--reserved of demeanor, distinguished of carriage,
obviously upholding the tradition of _sang-froid_ that clings to his
countrymen.

Max's instinct was fully awake now; and when, in passing her table, the
fair man inclined his head to the auburn-haired lady, the matter merely
fitted with his expectations.

What brief emotional past lay in the mists of t