d tantalizingly, and she could catch
just a glimpse of two pairs of masculine feet in the hall below.
Pump-shod in uniform black, they gave no hint of identity, but she
wondered eagerly if one pair were attached to Amory Blaine. This young
man, not as yet encountered, had nevertheless taken up a considerable
part of her day--the first day of her arrival. Coming up in the machine
from the station, Sally had volunteered, amid a rain of question,
comment, revelation, and exaggeration:

"You remember Amory Blaine, of _course_. Well, he's simply mad to
see you again. He's stayed over a day from college, and he's coming
to-night. He's heard so much about you--says he remembers your eyes."

This had pleased Isabelle. It put them on equal terms, although she
was quite capable of staging her own romances, with or without advance
advertising. But following her happy tremble of anticipation, came a
sinking sensation that made her ask:

"How do you mean he's heard about me? What sort of things?"

Sally smiled. She felt rather in the capacity of a showman with her more
exotic cousin.

"He knows you're--you're considered beautiful and all that"--she
paused--"and I guess he knows you've been kissed."

At this Isabelle's little fist had clinched suddenly under the fur robe.
She was accustomed to be thus followed by her desperate past, and it
never failed to rouse in her the same feeling of resentment; yet--in a
strange town it was an advantageous reputation. She was a "Speed," was
she? Well--let them find out.

Out of the window Isabelle watched the snow glide by in the frosty
morning. It was ever so much colder here than in Baltimore; she had
not remembered; the glass of the side door was iced, the windows
were shirred with snow in the corners. Her mind played still with one
subject. Did _he_ dress like that boy there, who walked calmly down a
bustling business street, in moccasins and winter-carnival costume? How
very _Western!_ Of course he wasn't that way: he went to Princeton, was
a sophomore or something. Really she had no distinct idea of him. An
ancient snap-shot she had preserved in an old kodak book had impressed
her by the big eyes (which he had probably grown up to by now). However,
in the last month, when her winter visit to Sally had been decided on,
he had assumed the proportions of a worthy adversary. Children, most
astute of match-makers, plot their campaigns quickly, and Sally
had played a clever correspondenc