red a direct intensity of expression as though they were forever
seeking the inner, real you. Still, from the rolling brim of her soft felt
hat to the hem of her brown tailor-made, that cleared the ankles of trim
brown shoes, she was undeniably chic and in the eyes of Jimmie Daniels
"mighty nice."

He was longer than usual filling out the card, and the waiter hesitated
thoughtfully when he had read it, then be glanced from the young man to
his companion with a comprehensive smile and hurried away. There was
chilled grapefruit in goblets with cracked ice, followed by bouillon,
oysters, and a delectable young duck with toast. But it was only when the
man brought a small green bottle and held it for Jimmie to approve the
label that his guest began to arch her brows.

Daniels smiled his ingenuous smile. "It's just to celebrate a little
streak of luck," he said. "And I owe it to you. If you hadn't been at
Vivian Court to write up the decorations for that bridge-luncheon and
happened to make that snap-shot of the Morganstein party, my leading lady
would have gone to the paper as Miss Armitage straight, and I guess that
would have queered me with the chief. But that headline you introduced
about Mrs. Weatherbee's incognito struck him right. 'Well, Jimmie,' he
said, 'you've saved your scalp this time.'"

The Society Editor smiled. "You were a gullible kiddie," she replied. "But
it's a mystery to me how you could have lived in Seattle three years
without knowing the prettiest woman on the boulevard by sight."

Jimmie shook his head. "I haven't the shadow of an excuse, unless it was
because another girl was running such a close second she always cut off my
view."

"Think," said Miss Atkins quickly, disregarding the excuse, "if that name,
Miss Armitage, had been tagged to a picture that half the town would have
recognized. Mrs. Weatherbee is the most popular lady, socially, in
Seattle. When there's a reception for a new Council, she's always in the
receiving line; she pours tea at the tennis tournament, and it was she who
led the cotillion at the Charity ball. You would find her name in all the
important affairs, if you read the society column."

Daniels nodded meekly. "It was a hairbreadth escape, and I'm mighty
grateful."

There was a little silence then, but after the waiter had filled the
long-stemmed glasses and hurried away, she said slowly, her gray-blue eyes
sifting Jimmie through and through: "It looks like you've