"Yes," Cuthbert was saying, "that's Chiltern sure enough. He came in on
Dicky Farnham's yacht this morning from New York."

"This morning!" said Ethel Wing. "Surely not! No yacht could have come in
this morning."

"Nobody but Chiltern would have brought one in, you mean," he corrected
her. "He sailed her. They say Dicky was half dead with fright, and wanted
to put in anywhere. Chiltern sent him below and kept right on. He has a
devil in him, I believe. By the way, that's Dicky Farnham's ex-wife he's
talking to--Adele. She keeps her good looks, doesn't she? What's happened
to Rindge?"

"Left him on the other side, I hear," said Carrington. "Perhaps she'll
take Chiltern next. She looked as though she were ready to. And they say
it's easier every time."

"C'est le second mari qui coute," paraphrased Cuthbert, tossing his cigar
over the balustrade. The strains of a waltz floated out of the windows,
the groups at the tables broke up, and the cotillon began.

As Honora danced, Chiltern remained in the back of her mind, or rather an
indefinite impression was there which in flashes she connected with him.
She wondered, at times, what had become of him, and once or twice she
caught herself scanning the bewildering, shifting sheen of gowns and
jewels for his face. At last she saw him by the windows, holding a favour
in his hand, coming in her direction. She looked away, towards the red
uniforms of the Hungarian band on the raised platform at the end of the
room. He was standing beside her.

"Do you remember me, Mrs. Spence?" he asked.

She glanced up at him and smiled. He was not a person one would be likely
to forget, but she did not say so.

"I met you at Mrs. Granger's," was what she said.

He handed her the favour. She placed it amongst the collection at the
back of her chair and rose, and they danced. Was it dancing? The music
throbbed; nay, the musicians seemed suddenly to have been carried out of
themselves, and played as they had not played before. Her veins were
filled with pulsing fire as she was swung, guided, carried out of herself
by the extraordinary virility of the man who held her. She had tasted
mastery.

"Thank you," she faltered, as they came around the second time to her
seat.

He released her.

"I stayed to dance with you," he said. "I had to await my opportunity."

"It was kind of you to remember me," she replied, as she went off with
Mr. Carrington.

A moment later she saw him bidding