st at the feast, he sat quite motionless, his glass
half raised in the air, the colour gone from his cheeks, his eyes set in
a hard fast stare. Wilhelmina, in a plain black velvet gown, with a rope
of pearls about her neck, her dark hair simply arranged about her
pallid, distinguished face, was passing down the room, followed closely
by the Earl of Westerdean, Deyes, and Lady Peggy. Her first impulse had
been to stop; a light sprang into her eyes, and a delicate spot of
colour burned in her cheeks. Then her eyes fell upon his companions; she
realized his surroundings. The colour went: the momentary hesitation was
gone. She passed on without recognition; Lady Peggy, after a curious
glance, did the same. She whispered and laughed in Deyes' ear as they
seated themselves at an adjacent table. He looked round behind her back
and nodded, but Macheson did not appear to see him.

A momentary constraint fell upon the little party. The American young
lady leaned over to ask Davenant who the newcomers were.

"The elder man," he said, "is the Earl of Westerdean, and the
pretty fair woman Lady Margaret Penshore. The other woman is a Miss
Thorpe-Hatton. Macheson probably knows more about them than I do!"

Macheson ignored the remark. He whispered something in his neighbour's
ear, which made her laugh heartily. The temporary check to their
merriment passed away. Macheson was soon laughing and talking as much as
any of them.

"Supper," he declared, "would be the most delightful meal of the day in
any other country except England. In a quarter of an hour the lights
will be out."

"But it is barbarous," Mademoiselle Rosine declared. "Ah! Monsieur
Macheson, you should come to Paris! There it is that one may enjoy
oneself."

"I will come," Macheson answered, "whenever you will take me."

She clapped her hands.

"Agreed," she cried. "I have finished rehearsing. I have a week's
'vacance.' We will go to Paris to-morrow, all four of us!"

"I'm on," Davenant declared promptly. "I was going anyway in a week or
two."

Mademoiselle Rosine clapped her hands again.

"Bravo!" she cried. "And you, Mademoiselle?"

The girl hesitated. She glanced at Macheson.

"We will both come," Macheson declared. "Miss Merriam will do me the
honour to go as my guest."

"We'll stay at the Vivandiere," Davenant said. "I've a pal there who
knows the ropes right up to date. What about the two-twenty to-morrow?
We shall get there in time to change and ha