s."

"Oh, if I must," shrugging his shoulders. "But I feel that a motion for
all to adjourn would be in order; don't you, Dalton?"

"All right! We'll clear the rooms in no time."

Joyce stopped him with an uplifted hand.

"They must go when and as they choose. It is _their_ party. Please don't
interfere in the least. Come Madame, we can slip out unnoticed. Nobody
needs us here."

The two stepped briskly on, and Dalton, watching Joyce, shook his head
ruefully, then turned to Larry.

"It's too bad she's just as she is. It means a lot of heartbreaks and
disappointments. Pity women can't take the world as it is."

"Well, perhaps--provided they don't leave it as it is. I am inclined to
believe it's that kind of woman who is responsible for the fact that the
world does grow better as the centuries pass. And those who know Joyce
Lavillotte would scarcely care to change her."

"No, no; nor I! It was of herself I was thinking. She's got to suffer
so. One hates to see a person take a cloud for something tangible and
keep falling off, to be bruised and beaten. If she could always
soar--but the falls will come."

He sighed, and Larry laughed.

"She'd rather bear the falls than never soar. Let her alone!"

"Oh, of course; it's all one can do. But--it hurts."

The last words were in a whisper, so lost on Larry, who had just turned
to speak with the phonograph exhibitor now making ready to depart.

Meanwhile, the Madame and Joyce had hastily gathered up their wraps, and
were waiting an instant in the hall till Gilbert could make his way to
them from the corner out of which they had beckoned him, (nothing loth,
for he was half asleep,) when Rachel passed them quickly, her own wrap
on her arm. She looked flushed and animated. Her cold, indifferent mask
seemed to have fallen from her face. Her mother was awaiting her, the
sleeping baby folded in her shawl.

"Well, d'ye have a good time?" she asked, as the daughter joined her.

"So good I can hardly believe it's real, mother!" was the glad answer.
Then, catching sight of the ladies near by, she bowed slightly, with a
shy smile at Joyce.

"Good-night," she said softly, flushing a little. "Are you going, too?
It's been fine, hasn't it?"

In her surprised pleasure Joyce forgot to answer, except with a vigorous
nod and smile, but in an instant she whispered in a brightening tone,
"It was Rachel, ma mere. Did you hear?"

"Yes, I did. I could hear the joy in her tone, too.