we have changed partners. Now, run
along!"

CHAPTER XVI

Rose Forster had felt she must not lure Mr. Arranstoun over to Ebbsworth
on false pretences; he was a very much sought after young man, and since
his return from the wilds had been very difficult to secure, and
therefore it was her duty to give him one of her beautiful Americans at
dinner. The Princess was obviously the destiny of her husband with her
brother Henry upon the other side, so Michael must take in Mrs. Howard.
Mr. Arranstoun was one of the last two guests to assemble in the great
drawing-room where the party were collected, and did not hear of his
good fortune until one minute before dinner was announced.

Sabine had perhaps never looked so well in her life. She had not her
father's nation's love of splendid jewels, and wore none of any kind.
Her French mother may have transmitted to her some wonderful strain of
tastes which from earliest youth had seemed to guide her into selecting
the most beautiful and becoming things without great knowledge. Her ugly
frocks at the Convent had been a penance, and ever since she had been
free and rich her clothes and all her belongings had been marvels of
distinction and simplicity.

Moravia was, strictly speaking, far more beautiful, but Sabine, as Henry
had once said, had "it."

Her manner was just what it ought to have been, as she placed her hand
upon her husband's arm--perfectly indifferent and gracious, and so they
went in to dinner.

Michael had hardly hoped to have this chance and meant to make the most
of it. At dinner before a ball was not the place to have a serious
discussion about divorce, but was for lighter and more frivolous
conversation, and he felt his partner would be no unskilled adversary
with the foils.

"So you have got this far north, Mrs. Howard," he began by saying,
making a slight pause over the name. "I wish I could persuade you to
come over the border to Arranstoun; it is only thirty-five miles from
here, and really merits your attention."

"I have heard it is a most interesting place," Sabine returned, suddenly
experiencing the same wild delight in the game as she had done in the
garden at Heronac. "Have you ghosts there? We do not have such things in
France."

"Yes, there are a number of ghosts--but the most persistent and
disconcerting one is a very young girl who nightly falls through a
secret door into my room."

"How romantic! What is she like?" Two violet eyes