a great and ever-widening
ring. Girls armed with jesters' bladders were being carried high on the
shoulders of their male acquaintances, and striking all and sundry as
they passed, staid, elderly folk were performing grotesque antics
for persons of their age. The very air of the Riviera seems to be
exhilarating to both old and young, and the constant church-goers
at home quickly become infected by the spirit of gaiety, and conduct
themselves on the Continental Sabbath in a manner which would horribly
disgust their particular vicar.

"Hugh must have been detained by something very unexpected, mother,"
Dorise said. "He never disappoints us."

"Oh, yes, he does. One night we were going to the Embassy Club--don't
you recollect it--and he never turned up."

"Oh, well, mother. It was really excusable. His cousin arrived from New
York quite unexpectedly upon some family business. He phoned to you and
explained," said the girl.

"Well, what about that night when I asked him to dinner at the Ritz to
meet the Courtenays and he rang up to say he was not well? Yet I saw him
hale and hearty next day at a matinee at the Comedy."

"He may have been indisposed, mother," Dorise said. "Really I think you
judge him just a little too harshly."

"I don't. I take people as I find them. Your father always said that,
and he was no fool, my dear. He made a fortune by his cleverness, and we
now enjoy it. Never associate with unsuccessful persons. It's fatal!"

"That's just what old Sir Dudley Ash, the steel millionaire, told me the
other day when we were over at Cannes, mother. Never associate with the
unlucky. Bad luck, he says, is a contagious malady."

"And I believe it--I firmly believe it," declared Lady Ranscomb. "Your
poor father pointed it out to me long ago, and I find that what he said
is too true."

"But we can't all be lucky, mother," said the girl, watching the revelry
before her blankly as she reflected upon the mystery of Hugh's absence.

"No. But we can, nevertheless, be rich, if we look always to the
main chance and make the best of our opportunities," her mother said
meaningly.

At that moment the Count d'Autun approached them. He was dressed as a
pierrot, but being masked was only recognizable by the fine ruby ring
upon his finger.

"Will mademoiselle do me the honour?" he said in French, bowing
elegantly. "They are dancing in the theatre. Will you come, Mademoiselle
Dorise?"

"Delighted," she said, with an in