hem, while she had given more time to her order, and
did not really begin her dinner until her vis-a-vis had disposed of his.
Then, with a final and hasty glance at his watch, the gray and elderly
man arose, bowed awkwardly and formally to her and left the room.

The first course of the lady's dinner had just been placed before her,
and Hayden could not fail to admire the way in which she bore herself.
Although, as at the opera, she must have been conscious of the many
admiring eyes cast in her direction, she gave no evidence of it, and he
was almost equally piqued by the fact that she manifested no apparent
interest in his presence. Not once did she turn her head toward the door,
not once did she incline her eyes in his direction.

She had just finished her soup when, the clock indicating one minute of
eight, Hayden took a last sip of his black coffee, the last whiff of his
cigarette, and walked down the room toward her. As he reached her table
and stood before her, she looked up with a charming smile, which yet held
a touch of shyness, an embarrassment she struggled to conceal, and nodded
toward the chair so recently vacated by her elderly companion. To his
surprise, Hayden saw that she was younger than he had at first thought
her, and wondered afresh at her apparent isolation.

"Won't you sit there, please? You are very prompt. It is just eight
o'clock."

He seated himself opposite her. "A proof of my desire to escape the
responsibility of your ornament," he replied, taking from his pocket the
box enclosing the silver butterfly and holding it out toward her.

"Oh, thank you." She laid it on the table beside her without opening it.
"It is extremely good of you to forgo any engagement you may have had
merely to return this to me with your own hands." But although her words
showed composure, her voice, the color that came and went, exhibited an
agitation she could not wholly overcome.

"Good! Not at all," he returned. "There may have been several reasons
which would make me wish to deliver the buckle to you in person--its
beauty and value for one thing; but to be perfectly frank, let me confess
that there was one overmastering reason, that my interest in this matter
has been enormously increased by one of the most potent of factors; a
factor that might be called the greatest stimulant in the world to even a
tepid interest."

She looked up at him with surprise, even, he fancied, a slight alarm.
"What can you possi