e same shape crowned her dark hair. Yet all the richness and
delicacy of the blended colourings struck Rallywood with only one odd
remembrance--his own boot-heel outlined in Revonde mud upon a long
_suede_ glove. The same association apparently occurred to Baron von
Elmur. His glance fled from Valerie to Rallywood, and he smiled with
some malice.

'What have we here, Mademoiselle? The stamp of some idealised cavalry
charger?' he asked. 'I should be eternally grateful if only I were--of
the cavalry!'

A sudden intense expression, like a spasm of hope or happiness, crossed
Unziar's pale face in a flash. A word sprang almost involuntarily from
his lips.

'The Guard----' But the girl cut him remorselessly short.

'I do not idealise either the Guard'--she paused, then went on without
taking her eyes from Elmur's face--'or the cavalry. One has illusions,
doubtless, but none so entirely absurd! I have idealised my own desire
merely. I want good luck. I am "Good Luck!"' She spoke the last two
words in English, smiling back at Elmur.

The Baron bowed. He was not beaten yet.

'That is well,' he exclaimed; 'since the cavalry and Guard are disowned,
it means that the good luck is for the poor diplomat!'

'Provisionally, yes,' said the girl.

'Mademoiselle Selpdorf has already given this waltz to me,' said Unziar,
stepping forward.

But Mademoiselle Selpdorf placed her hand within the Baron's ready arm.

'Later, Anthony,' she answered. 'His Excellency deserves a consolation
prize, since my reading of "Good Luck" is not in the German language.'

She turned away, and with her the group parted and scattered.

'You are very much interested; is it not so?'

Rallywood started. The Countess spoke petulantly.

'Do you not know,' she added, 'that the custom in Revonde holds you to
the partner with whom you find yourself when midnight rings? Valerie
Selpdorf is embarrassed with partners--my cousin Anthony Unziar, who
desires perhaps herself, but most certainly her fortune, and our
delightful German Minister, who uses all means that come to hand to win
Maasau for his master! But I should not say these foolish things to you,
who are of the other party.'

They were dancing by this time, her head near his shoulder, her voice
soft in his bending ear.

'Of the other party?' he repeated. 'I flattered myself that you said
something else just now.'

'Yes, a friend; but I made a mistake--I have none--no, not one true
friend!' the