e, and she took
occasion to look at him scornfully before entering. "Doubtless
she will if you pay her enough," she said. "And her name is----Oh,"
wrinkling her forehead in perplexity, "I've got it down
somewhere, but for the moment, it's gone out of my head.
Mademoiselle--Mademoiselle----Oh, an odd name. I'll remember
it sooner or later. Good-by."

"Mademoiselle--Mademoiselle--" he teased her, imitating her voice.
"Oh, an odd name," And he laughed. "But, Kitty, do beg her to find me
the fairy princess."

CHAPTER II

When the curtain fell on the first act of _Thais_, that evening,
Hayden drew a long sigh. He had been enjoying it with that keen,
pleasant appreciation, that boyish glow of enthusiasm which still
remained with him. Then he turned his attention to the house and
amused himself by picking out an occasional familiar face, and
admiring the carefully dressed heads and charming gowns of the women
about him, and the whole brilliant flower-garden effect of the
audience.

Presently, he noticed with some surprise that in spite of a crowded
house the two seats next him remained unoccupied; but just before the
curtain rose again he turned his head suddenly to discover that one
of the seats at least, the one farthest from him, was filled. The
recognition of this fact came almost with a shock, a pleasurable
shock, for the new arrival was a young and beautiful woman and his
first feeling of surprise was shot with approbation at the
noiselessness of her entrance, an approbation that he longed to
express verbally.

She had slipped past several people, and taken her seat without any
of the jingling of chains, rattling of draperies and dropping of
small articles which usually proclaim the disturbing appearance of
the late feminine arrival, and seem, in fact, her necessary
concomitant. But this young woman though she had so recently entered
yet managed by some magic at her command to convey the impression of
having been in her seat all evening.

Hayden hated to stare at her. He was, in fact, entirely too well bred
to do anything of the sort, and yet, quite disgracefully, he longed
to do nothing on earth so much, and further he was inclined to
justify himself in this social lawlessness.

If women, either wilfully or unconsciously, succeeded in making pictures
of themselves, they must expect to be gazed at. That was all there was to
the matter. Only, and there was the rub, Hayden couldn't very well profit
by t