tayed by the girl's side throughout the evening. Once again
he saw Mme. Dauvray and Adele Tace. But now they were together; now
they were talking. The first step had been taken. Adele Tace had
scraped acquaintance with Mme. Dauvray. Celia saw them almost at the
same moment.

"Oh, there is Mme. Dauvray," she cried, taking a step towards her.

Wethermill detained the girl.

"She seems quite happy," he said; and, indeed, Mme. Dauvray was talking
volubly and with the utmost interest, the jewels sparkling about her
neck. She raised her head, saw Celia, nodded to her affectionately, and
then pointed her out to her companion. Adele Tace looked the girl over
with interest and smiled contentedly. There was nothing to be feared
from her. Her youth, her very daintiness, seemed to offer her as the
easiest of victims.

"You see Mme. Dauvray does not want you," said Harry Wethermill. "Let
us go and play chemin-de-fer"; and they did, moving off into one of the
further rooms.

It was not until another hour had passed that Celia rose and went in
search of Mme. Dauvray. She found her still talking earnestly to Adele
Tace. Mme. Dauvray got up at once.

"Are you ready to go, dear?" she asked, and she turned to Adele Tace.
"This is Celie, Mme. Rossignol," she said, and she spoke with a marked
significance and a note of actual exultation in her voice.

Celia, however, was not unused to this tone. Mme. Dauvray was proud of
her companion, and had a habit of showing her off, to the girl's
discomfort. The three women spoke a few words, and then Mme. Dauvray
and Celia left the rooms and walked to the entrance-doors. But as they
walked Celia became alarmed.

She was by nature extraordinarily sensitive to impressions. It was to
that quick receptivity that the success of "The Great Fortinbras" had
been chiefly due. She had a gift of rapid comprehension. It was not
that she argued, or deducted, or inferred. But she felt. To take a
metaphor from the work of the man she loved, she was a natural
receiver. So now, although no word was spoken, she was aware that Mme.
Dauvray was greatly excited--greatly disturbed; and she dreaded the
reason of that excitement and disturbance.

While they were driving home in the motor-car she said apprehensively:

"You met a friend then, to-night, madame?"

"No," said Mme. Dauvray; "I made a friend. I had not met Mme. Rossignol
before. A bracelet of hers came undone, and I helped her to fasten it.
We talked