on volubly about the
charity ball, Deppingham listening with a fair show of tolerance.

"We might just as well be merry while we can," he was saying. "Think of
what the French did at the time of the Commune. They danced and died
like ladies and gentlemen. And our own forefathers, Chase, at the time
of the American Revolution--remember them, too. They gave their balls
and parties right under the muzzles of British cannon. And
Vicksburg--New Orleans, too--in the Civil War! Think of 'em! Why
shouldn't we be as game and as gay as they?"

"But they were earnest in their distractions," observed Deppingham, with
a glance at his wife's eager face. "This could be nothing more than a
travesty, a jest."

"Oh, let us be sports," cried Lady Agnes, falling into an Americanism
readily. "It may be a jest, but what odds? Something to kill time with."

Chase and the Princess watched Deppingham's expressionless face as he
listened to his wife and Bobby Browne. They were talking of
arrangements. He looked out over the roof of the opposite wing, beyond
the group of Persians, and nodded his head from time to time. There was
no smile on his lips, however.

"I don't like Mr. Browne," whispered Genevra suddenly. Chase did not
reply. She waited a moment and then went on. "He is not like Deppingham.
Do you understand?"

Lady Deppingham came over to them at that instant, her eyes sparkling.

"It's to be to-night," she said. "A fashionable charity ball--everything
except the newspaper accounts, don't you know. Committees and all that.
It's short notice, of course, but life may be short. We'll have Arab
acrobatics, Persian dances, a grand march, electric lights and
absolutely no money to distribute. That's the way it usually is. Now,
Mr. Chase, don't look so sour! Be nice, please!" She put her hand on his
arm and smiled up at him so brightly that he could not hold out against
her. She caught the touch of disapproval in Genevra's glance, and a
sharp, quick flash of rebellion came into her own eyes--a stubborn line
stopped for an instant at the corners of her mouth.

"What is a charity ball?" asked Genevra after a moment.

"A charity ball is a function where one set of women sit in the boxes
and say nasty things about the women on the floor, and those on the
floor say horrid things about the women in the boxes. It's great fun."

"Charity is simply a hallucination, then?"

"Yes, but don't mention it aloud. Mr. Britt is trying with might and