looks very beautiful to-night."

"She has matured marvellously of late," continued the other, in low,
pleasant tones; "her development within the past few weeks has been
remarkable. But that is to be expected in women of her style, and this
is but the beginning. Mark my words, Mr. Darrell," Walcott faced his
auditor with a smile, "Miss Underwood's beauty to-night is but the pale
shining of a taper beside one of those lights yonder, compared with what
it will be a few years hence; are you aware of that?"

"It had not occurred to me," Darrell replied, with studied calmness, for
the conversation was becoming distasteful to him.

"Look at her now!" said Walcott, bowing and smiling as Kate floated past
them, but regarding her with a scrutiny that aroused Darrell's quick
resentment; "very fair, very lovely, I admit, but a trifle too slender;
a little too colorless, too neutral, as it were! A few years will change
all that. You will see her a woman of magnificent proportions and with
the cold, neutral tints replaced by warmth and color. I have made a
study of women, and I know that class well. Five or ten years from now
she will be simply superb, and at the age when ordinary women lose their
power to charm she will only be in the zenith of her beauty."

The look and tone accompanying the words filled Darrell with indignation
and disgust.

"You will have to excuse me," he said, coldly; "you seem, as you say, to
have made a study of women from your own standpoint, but our standards
of beauty differ so radically that further discussion of the subject is
useless."

"Ah, well, every man according to his taste, of course," Walcott
remarked, indifferently, and, turning lightly, he walked away, a faint
gleam of amusement lighting his dark features.

Half an hour later, as Darrell glided over the floor with Kate, some
irresistible force drew his glance towards the bay-window where within
the shadow of the palms Walcott was now standing alone, suave as ever.
Their eyes met for an instant only, and Walcott smiled. The dance went
on, but the smile, like a poisoned shaft, entered Darrell's soul and
rankled there.

Both Darrell and Walcott were marked men that night and attracted
universal attention and comment. Darrell's pale, intellectual face,
penetrating eyes, and dark hair already streaked with gray would have
attracted attention anywhere, as would also Walcott with his olive skin,
his cynical smile, and graceful, sinuous mov