d us, dragging up a chair in place
of the one I had appropriated.

"So you and Mr. Wynn are neighbors," she said gaily. "Though he never
told me so."

"Doubtless he considered me too insignificant," replied Cassavetti,
suavely enough, though I felt, rather than saw, that he eyed me
malignantly.

"Oh, you are not in the least insignificant, though you are
exasperatingly--how shall I put it?--opinionated," she retorted, and
turned to me. "Mr. Cassavetti has accused me of being a Russian."

"Not accused--complimented," he interpolated, with a deprecatory bow.

"You see?" Anne appealed to me in the same light tone, but our eyes met
in a significant glance, and I knew that she had understood my warning,
perhaps far better than I did myself; for after all I had been guided by
instinct rather than knowledge when I uttered it.

"I have told him that I have never been in Russia," she continued, "and
he is rude enough to disbelieve a lady!"

"I protest--and apologize also," asserted Cassavetti, "though you are
smoking a Russian cigarette."

"As two-thirds of the women here are doing. The others are non-smoking
frumps," she laughed.

"But you smoke them with such a singular grace."

The words and tone were courtier-like, but their inference was
unmistakable. I could have killed him for it! A swift glance from Anne
commanded silence and self-restraint.

"You are a flatterer, Mr. Cassavetti," she said in mock reproof. "Come
along, good people; there's plenty of room here!" as other acquaintances
joined us. "Oh, some one's going to recite--hush!"

The next hour or so passed pleasantly, and all too quickly. Anne was the
centre of a merry group, and was now in her wittiest and most gracious
mood. Cassavetti remained with us, speaking seldom, though he could be a
brilliant conversationalist when he liked. He listened to Anne's every
word, watched every gesture, unobtrusively, but with a curious
intentness.

Soon after ten, people began to leave, some who lived at a distance,
others who would finish the evening elsewhere. Anne was going on to a
birthday supper at Mrs. Dennis Sutherland's house in Kensington, to
which many theatrical friends had been bidden. The invitation was an
impromptu one, given and accepted a few minutes ago, and now the famous
actress came to claim her guest.

"Ready, Anne? Sorry you can't come with us, Mr. Wynn; but come later if
you can."

We moved towards the door all together, Anne and her h