his name did
appear in heavy block type in the Social Register. But she went only
once. She made a mistake. She had that day helped to costume a sister
of one of the men. She happened now to mention that sister's
prettiness.

The man looked her in the eye, coldly, for a prolonged moment.

"Let's leave my sister out of it," he said at length deliberately.

And Cecille's cheeks were still pale from his tone when they arrived
back at the apartment.

"That was a bad crack you made," Felicity told her then.

"I--I didn't know."

"They don't like to discuss their own womenfolks with girls like us."

"Oh!"

The exclamation was little more than a whisper.

"But no harm done," airily. "He has to depend on the old man for his
bank-roll. I just thought I'd tip you off."

She didn't go again. She stopped wanting to go anywhere, even to the
movies, for quite a while. And then, just at eleven one night, while
Felicity was before the mirror preparing to go to work and wondering
where Cecille could be, the latter came quietly in. Felicity hardly
marked her entrance until she dropped suddenly into a chair and began
to laugh. It was the laugh which made Felicity turn so sharply. She
had had experience with that shrill note in women's voices and knew
what it could mean. Such breakdowns were ugly to handle.

She flung sharply round.

"What's tickling you?" she barked harshly. "Shoot! Let's have it.
Cut that, now!"

It stayed the slighter girl's hysteria.

"I've been--I've been to a dance," she gurgled.

Felicity gave her no foolish respite.

"Well, I don't get it," she rapped on. "Maybe I'm English. Where's
the joke?"

"A--a dance over at the Central Palace, given for Worthy Working
Girls--"

"That's funnier! But go ahead. Snap into it! Don't let it
drag--don't let it drag--"

It seemed a potent cure.

"I went because I saw in the paper that Mrs. Schuyler Driggs was going
to be among the patronesses to receive."

The hysterical giggle was gone from Cecille's voice. She shut tight
her teeth and raised her chin. Felicity felt that it was safe now to
remain silent. And she was right, partly right. She only failed to
realize that Cecille was all too calm.

"I'm sorry, Felicity," the latter apologized meekly. "But I couldn't
help it. I thought I'd laugh and cry and scream, right on the street,
before I could get here. But I held on. Shall I finish?"

"Mrs. Schuyler Driggs has just made