st as the music came anew.

"It's hot to-night," said Wilbur very simply to Terry Stamper and Bill
Bardin as they moved off the floor to an open window.

His dancing eyes followed Beauty in the dance, and he was at her side
when the music ceased. Until it came again he fanned by an open window
her flushed and lovely face. Her name was Pearl.

"I wish this night would last forever," he murmured to her.

"Tut, tut!" said Pearl in humorous dismay, "and me having to be at
business at seven A.M.!"

Only then did he learn that she was not a mere social butterfly, but one
of the proletariat; that, in truth, she waited on table at the Mansion.
Instantly he constructed their future together. He would free her from
that life of toil.

"You're too beautiful for work like that," he told her.

Pearl eyed him with sudden approval.

"You're all right, kid. I often said the same thing myself, but no one's
fell for it up to date."

They danced, and again they danced.

"You're the nicest boy in the bunch," murmured Pearl.

"I never saw any one so beautiful," said Wilbur.

Pearl smiled graciously. "I love the sound of your voice," she said.

She was wrested from him by Bill Bardin. When he would have retrieved
her Terry Stamper had secured her notice. So through another dance he
stood aloof against the wall, moody now. It might be only social finesse
in Pearl but she was showing to others the same pleased vivacity she had
shown to him. Could it be she did not yet understand? Had she possibly
not divined that they two were now forever apart from the trivial world?
They danced again.

"Don't you feel as if we'd always known each other?" he demanded.

"Sure, kid!" breathed Pearl.

It was after still another dance--she had meantime floated in the arms
of a mere mill foreman. This time he led her into the dusky hallway,
where open windows brought the cool night to other low-voiced couples.
He led her to the farthest window, where the shadow was deepest, and
they looked out-above the roof of Rapp Brothers, Jewellery-to a sky of
pale stars and a blond moon.

"Ain't it great?" said Pearl.

He stood close to her, trembling from the faintest contact with her
loveliness. He wished to kiss her-he must kiss her. But he was afraid.
Pearl was sympathetic. She divined his trouble, and in the deep shadow
she adroitly did it herself. Then she rebuked his boldness.

"Say, but you're the quick little worker, seems to me!"

For a mome