--and is
getting her programme filled in advance!"

Cries of "Oh, Kate, that's not fair!" followed. Kate leaned laughingly
over the balustrade.

"He's an angel of a dancer, girls," she called, "but I'll promise not to
monopolize him!"

Darrell returned the programme, saying, as they passed down the stairs
together,--

"I didn't want to appear selfish, so I only selected three, but give me
more if you can, later."

Kate smiled. "I think," she replied, "you will speedily find yourself in
such demand that I will consider myself fortunate to have secured those
three; but," she added shyly, as her eyes met his, "my first waltz was
with you, and that was just as I intended it should be!"

Through the hours which followed so swiftly Darrell was in a sort of
waking dream, a state of superlative happiness, unmarred as yet by
phantoms from the shrouded past or misgivings as to the dim, uncertain
future; past and future were for the time alike forgotten. One image
dominated his mind,--the form and face of the fair young hostess moving
among her guests as a queen amid her court, carrying her daintily poised
head as though conscious of the twofold royal crown of womanhood and
woman's love. One thought surged continuously through and through his
brain,--that she was his, his by the sovereign right of love. Whatever
courtesy he showed to others was for her sake, because they were her
guests, her friends, and when unengaged he stationed himself in some
quiet corner or dimly lighted alcove where, unobserved, he could watch
her movements with their rhythmic grace or catch the music of her voice,
the sight or sound thrilling him with joy so exquisite as to be akin to
pain. The oft-repeated compliments of the crowd about him seemed to him
empty, trite, meaningless; what could they know of her real beauty
compared with himself who saw her through Love's eyes!

As he stood thus alone in a deep bay-window, shaded by giant palms, some
one paused beside him.

"Our little debutante has surpassed herself to-night; she is fairest of
the fair!"

Darrell turned to see at his side Walcott, faultlessly attired, elegant,
nonchalant; a half-smile playing about his lips as through half-closed
eyes he watched the dancers. Instantly all the antagonism in Darrell's
nature rose against the man; strive as he might, he was powerless to
subdue it. There was no trace of it in his voice, however, as he
answered, quietly,--

"Miss Underwood certainly