e mirror and the moonlight transform its golden beauty to a
rippling cascade of silver. Mark stared, fascinated, over her shoulder.

"The moonlight's beautiful tonight, Mark!" the girl murmured. "It makes
my hair dance in the glass like the waves of the sea." Her voice faded
to nothingness. Her eyes were half-closed.

"Your hair is always beautiful, Elaine," her lover whispered, "and it's
no lovelier than all the rest of you, every inch." A moment's
hesitation. "But we've got to get to bed, darling. There'll be so much
running around tomorrow--"

"_Mark!_"

Shock was in that sudden exclamation. Shock, and a little lilt of panic.
It burst from Elaine's half-parted lips like the _thunk_ of a bullet
slamming into a hardwood board.

The man jerked to attention. Caught the girl's smooth shoulders in his
big hands.

"Elaine! What is it?"

"Look! The mirror!"

"The mirror?" Mark Carter's puzzled brown eyes sought the gleaming
surface of the glass. "What--?"

"The reflection! Look!"

Mark stared. Went suddenly tense in stark amazement, eyes wide.

* * * * *

For there, gazing back at him out of the mirror, was a new Elaine. An
Elaine who stood beside a great black coach, the like of which had never
rolled American highways.

[Illustration: There in the mirror was an image that was NOT a
reflection!]

This woman's face was Elaine's. Yet there the resemblance ended. The
filmy negligee of his own fiancee was replaced by the rich warmth of a
scarlet satin gown and endless yards of white lace ruffles. The creamy
skin of his own Elaine's bare arms came back as covered with long white
gloves to above the elbows. A perky little hat, of scarlet satin to
match the dress, and topped with a huge aigrette plume, rode proudly
upon the elaborate coiffure of golden hair.

Nor was it only in superficials that the reflection differed.

The other woman had a character all her own, too. It showed in the tilt
of her head, the way she stood, the expression on her lovely face.

But most of all it showed in her eyes.

Proud eyes, they were, and intelligent. They looked into Mark's own
brown orbs calmly and without flinching. And they were not the eyes of
his sweetheart. No. There was an indefinable _something_ lurking deep in
their cool blue depths that differentiated the reflection from Elaine.
That made the woman in the glass another personality. Similar in many
ways, yes. Fundamentally the same