slowly
died out altogether, and the silence of the street was strange and
unfamiliar to Betty. She went to the hedge and watched the musicians,
who were the last to go, until they passed from sight: little black
toilsome figures, carrying grotesque black boxes. While she could still
see them, it seemed to her that her ball was not quite over, and she
wished to hold the least speck of it as long as she could; but when
they had disappeared, she faced the truth with a deep sigh: the long,
glorious night was finished indeed.

What she needed now was another girl: the two would have gone to Betty's
room and danced it all over again until noon; but she had only her
father. She found him smoking a Principe cigar upon the veranda, so she
seated herself timidly, nevertheless with a hopeful glance at him, on
the steps at his feet; and, as she did so, he looked down upon her with
something more akin to geniality than anything she had ever seen in his
eye before. It was not geniality itself, but might be third cousin to
it. Indeed, in his way, he was almost proud of her, though he had no
wish to show it. Since one was compelled to display the fact that one
possessed a grown daughter, it was well that she be like this one.

They did not know each other very well, and she often doubted that they
would ever become intimate. There was no sense of companionship
for either in the other; she had been unable to break through his
perfunctory, almost formal, manner with her; therefore, because he
encouraged no af-fection in her, she felt none, and wondered why, since
he was her father. She was more curious about him than interested,
and, though she did not know it, she was prepared to judge him--should
occasion arise--precisely as she would judge any other mere
acquaintance. This morning, for the first time, she was conscious of a
sense of warmth and gratitude toward him: the elaborate fashion in which
he had introduced her to his friends made it appear possible that he
liked her; for he had forgotten nothing, and to remember everything
in this case was to be lavish, which has often the appearance of
generosity.

And yet there had been a lack: some small thing she had missed, though
she was not entirely sure that she identified it; but the lack had not
been in her father or in anything he had done. Then, too, there was
something so unexpectedly human and pleasant in his not going to bed at
once, but remaining to smoke on the veranda at th