ling
flame; south, a gemmed bar of topaz light, upright against the sky,
marked the Plaza; beyond, sprinkled into space like constellations
dusting endless depths, the lights of the city receded far as the eye
could see.

In the zenith the sky is always tinted with the strange, sinister
night-glow of the metropolis, red as fire-licked smoke when fog from the
bay settles, pallid as the very shadow of light when nights are clear;
but it is always there--always will be there after the sun goes down
into the western seas, and the eyes of the monstrous iron city burn on
through the centuries.

* * * * *

One morning late in April Geraldine Seagrave rode up under the
porte-cochere with her groom, dismounted, patted her horse
sympathetically, and regarded with concern the limping animal as the
groom led him away to the stables. Then she went upstairs.

To Kathleen, who was preparing to go out, she said:

"I had scarcely entered the Park, my dear, when poor Bibi pulled up
lame. No, I told Redmond not to saddle another; I suppose Duane will be
furious. Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Shall I wait for you? I've ordered a victoria."

"No, thanks. You look so pretty this morning, Kathleen. Sometimes you
appear younger than I do. Scott was pig enough to say so the other day
when I had a headache. It's true enough, too," she added, smiling.

Kathleen Severn laughed; she looked scarcely more than twenty-five and
she knew it.

"You pretty thing!" exclaimed Geraldine, kissing her, "no wonder you
attract the really interesting men and leave me the dreadful fledglings!
It's bad of you; and I don't see why I'm stupid enough to have such an
attractive woman for my closest"--a kiss--"dearest friend! Even Duane is
villain enough to tell me that he finds you overwhelmingly attractive.
Did you know it?"

Geraldine's careless gaiety seemed spontaneous enough; yet there was the
slightest constraint in Kathleen's responsive smile:

"Duane isn't to be taken seriously," she said.

"Not by any means," nodded Geraldine, twirling her crop.

"I'm glad you understand him," observed Kathleen, gazing at the point of
her sunshade. She looked up presently and met Geraldine's dark gaze.
Again there came that almost imperceptible hesitation; then:

"I certainly do understand Duane Mallett," said Geraldine carelessly.

"Shall I wait for you?" asked Kathleen. "We can lunch out together and
drive in the Park