red her conversational charms; with what skill had she played
upon the pet failings and foibles of her guests; what unerring judgment
had been hers, and memory of details, unfailing tact, and exquisite
taste! A triumph, yes. And the first knowledge of it had come in a
lingering hand clasp from the great man of them all and a soft "dear"
in the farewell words of his wife. But she had fainted in her cabin
after they left.

Since that day she had gone far. She was on familiar terms with an
English earl and two dukes; she had entertained an emperor aboard her
yacht; in New York and Newport there were but two women to dispute her
claims as social dictator, and one of these, through a railroad coup of
her husband's, would soon be forced to her knees.

It was all in her face. Armitage could read it there in the hard
shrewd lines, the cold, heartless, vindictive lines, or the softer
lines which the smiles could form when smiles were necessary, which was
not so often now as in former years. And in place of the beauty now
gone, she ruled by sheer power and wit, which time had turned to biting
acidity,--and by the bitter diplomacy of the Medicis.

"Ugh!" Armitage drew his pipe from his pocket with humorous muttering.
"A dreadnaught, all right. An out-and-out sundowner. And I beg leave
to advise myself that the best thing about fair Anne is that she favors
her father, or some relative considerably more saintly than My Lady of
the Marble Face."

As Armitage passed the group in pacing the platform, the woman whom he
had been studying raised her eyes and gazed at him with just a touch of
imperiousness.

"I beg your pardon," she said, and a trace of the little formal smile
appeared; "but can you tell me when we are to have a train?"

Armitage glanced at his watch.

"It is due now," he said, "I think--here it comes," he added, inclining
his head towards a curve in the track around which a little locomotive
was pushing two dingy cars.

Mrs. Wellington nodded her thanks and turned to her daughter, as though
dismissing Armitage, who, indeed, had evinced no desire to remain,
walking toward the upper end of the platform where his bag reposed upon
a pile of trunks.

He did not see them again until they boarded the _General_ at Wickford
Landing for the trip down Narragansett Bay. They were all in the upper
cabin, where Mrs. Wellington was evidently preparing to doze. Armitage
walked forward and stood on the deck under the