ly to Marcella--she laughed to see how Betty's presence subdued
him--and then gave himself up wholly to Betty's tender mercies.

Marcella observed them with an eager interest she could not wholly
explain to herself. It was clear that all thought of anything or anybody
else had vanished for Frank Leven at the sight of Betty. Marcella
guessed, indeed knew, that they had not met for some little time; and
she was touched by the agitation and happiness on the boy's handsome
face. But Betty? what was the secret of her kittenish, teasing ways--or
was there any secret? She held her little head very high and chattered
very fast--but it was not the same chatter that she gave to Marcella,
nor, so far as Marcella could judge, to Aldous Raeburn. New elements of
character came out in it. It was self-confident, wilful, imperious.
Frank was never allowed to have an opinion; was laughed at before his
words were out of his mouth; was generally heckled, played with, and
shaken in a way which seemed alternately to enrage and enchant him. In
the case of most girls, such a manner would have meant encouragement;
but, as it was Betty, no one could be sure. The little thing was a great
puzzle to Marcella, who had found unexpected reserves in her. She might
talk of her love affairs to Aldous Raeburn; she had done nothing of the
sort with her new friend. And in such matters Marcella herself was far
more reserved than most modern women.

"Betty!" cried Lady Winterbourne, "I am going on into the next room."

Then in a lower tone she said helplessly to Marcella:

"Do make her come on!"

Marcella perceived that her old friend was in a fidget. Stooping her
tall head, she said with a smile:

"But look how she is amusing herself!"

"My dear!--that's just it! If you only knew how her mother--tiresome
woman--has talked to me! And the young man has behaved so beautifully
till now--has given neither Ermyntrude nor me any trouble."

Was that why Betty was leading him such a life? Marcella wondered,--then
suddenly--was seized with a sick distaste for the whole scene--for
Betty's love affairs--for her own interest in them--for her own self and
personality above all. Her great black eyes gazed straight before them,
unseeing, over the crowd, the diamonds, the lights; her whole being
gave itself to a quick, blind wrestle with some vague overmastering
pain, some despair of life and joy to which she could give no name.

She was roused by Betty's voice: