the fact; but it would not have
occurred to Carmen that her self-appreciation might be put into words.
However, she laughed when Theo said:

"What a shame there aren't any men to admire us! We're both looking too
adorable, aren't we? I should love to snapshot you in that Indian hammock,
though the picture would lose a lot without colour. And it's very unkind
of you if you wouldn't like to have a picture of me in my green
rocking-chair on the scarlet rug."

This gave Carmen a chance to touch upon the subject in her heart without,
as she thought, arousing any suspicion.

"You look awfully pretty," she said; "and this balcony is lovely, hanging
over the river. It's quite different from my home; though mine's nice,
too. And we have got one man--Mr. Falconer."

"He's engaged," said Theo.

"Oh, is he? I didn't know that. Well, and Mr. Hilliard will come, perhaps.
Have you met him?"

"Yes," replied Theo promptly; "at Santa Barbara. He was motoring with Mrs.
May. I thought him one of the handsomest men I ever saw. But I'm afraid he
isn't coming. She isn't either--of course."

Carmen's face crimsoned; then her colour died away and left her sickly
white, all but the little pink spots of rouge she had put on in the
morning.

"Motoring with Mrs. May!" she repeated, harshly, then controlled her voice
by a violent effort. "Was Mrs. May expected here?"

"Was expected," Theo echoed with emphasis. She was enjoying herself
thoroughly; literally enjoying "herself." This was almost as good as if
Hilliard had not refused the invitation and Angela had not basely slipped
out of the engagement after practically accepting. "She won't come. I
suppose she thinks she's having more fun where she is. Though if Mr.
Hilliard had come I haven't the ghost of a doubt that she would. Do you
know Mr. Hilliard well?"

This in a tone as innocent as that of a little child talking of its dolls.

"Pretty well," answered Carmen, moistening her lips. "Who is Mrs. May? I
heard of her once. She's a friend of the Morehouses."

"She's a new importation," replied Theo lightly. "So far as I can make
out, she and Mr. Hilliard met in New York."

"Is she--pretty?"

"Yes, very. Fair hair and gray eyes that look dark. Mourning is becoming
to her."

"Is she a widow?"

"She--gives that impression," Miss Dene smiled. This Carmen Gaylor was
like a beautiful, fiery thundercloud. Teasing her was delightful. Theo
felt as if she were in a play. It was a dreadf