of
pleasant noise about it, and the white gowns of the women, and the white
flannels of the men gave an impressionistic effect of faint blue against
the deeper blue of the night.

Within the house, the rugs were up in the drawing-room, the library, the
dining-room, and the wide hall; there sounded, presently, the tinkling
music of the phonograph, and there was the unceasing movement of
white-clad figures which seemed to float in a golden haze.

Becky danced a great deal, with Randy, with the younger boarders, and
with the genial gentleman. She laughed with an air of unaffected gayety.
And she felt that her heart stopped beating, when at last she looked up
and saw Dalton standing in the door.

She at once went towards him, and gave him her hand. "I wonder if you
know everybody?"

Her clear eyes met his without self-consciousness. He attempted a
swagger. "I don't want to know everybody. How do they happen to be
here?"

"I asked them. And they are really very nice."

He did not see the niceness. He had thought to find her in the setting
which belonged to her beauty. The silent night, the fragrance of the
garden, the pale statues among the trees, and himself playing the game
with a greater sense of its seriousness than ever before.

Throughout the evening George watched for a chance to see Becky alone.
Without conspicuously avoiding him, she had no time for him. He
complained constantly. "I want to talk to you. Run away with me,
Becky--and let these people go."

"It isn't proper for a hostess to leave her guests."

"Are you trying to--punish me?"

"For what?"

So--she too was playing----! She had let him come that he might see
her--indifferent.

Becky had danced with George once, and with Randy three times. George
had protested, and Becky had said, "But I promised him before you
came----"

"You knew I was coming?"

"Yes."

"You might have kept a few----"

She seemed to consider that. "Yes, I might. But not from Randy----"

At last he said to her, "I have been out in the garden. There is a star
shining in the little pool where the fishes are. I want you to see the
star."

It was thus he had won her. He had always seen stars shining in little
pools, or a young moon rising from a rosy bed. But it had never meant
anything. She shook her head. "I should like to see your little star.
But I haven't time."

"Are you afraid to come?"

"Why should I be?"

"Well, there's Love--in the