my husband? Oh, of course."

They exchanged a commonplace or two, then other people separated them
without resistance on their part. And Selwyn found himself drifting,
mildly interested in the vapid exchange of civilities which cost nobody
a mental effort.

His sister, he had once thought, was certainly the most delightfully
youthful matron in New York. But now he made an exception of Mrs. Fane;
Rosamund Fane was much younger--must have been younger, for she still
had something of that volatile freshness--that vague atmosphere of
immaturity clinging to her like a perfume almost too delicate to detect.
And under that the most profound capacity for mischief he had ever known
of. Sauntering amiably amid the glittering groups continually forming
and disintegrating under the clustered lights, he finally succeeded in
reaching his hostess.

And Mrs. T. West Minster disengaged herself from the throng with
intention as he approached.

No--and he was so sorry; and it was very amiable of his hostess to want
him, but he was not remaining for the dance.

So much for the hostess, who stood there massive and gem-laden, her
kindly and painted features tinted now with genuine emotion.

"_Je m'accuse, mon fils_!--but you acted like a perfect dear," she said.
"_Mea culpa, mea culpa_; and _can_ you forgive a very much mortified old
lady who is really and truly fond of you?"

He laughed, holding her fat, ringed hands in both of his with all the
attractive deference that explained his popularity. Rising excitement
had sent the colour into his face and cleared his pleasant gray eyes;
and he looked very young and handsome, his broad shoulders bent a trifle
before the enamelled and bejewelled matron.

"Forgive you?" he repeated with a laugh of protest; "on the contrary, I
thank you. Mrs. Ruthven is one of the most charming women I know, if
that is what you mean?"

Looking after him as he made his way toward the cloak room: "The boy is
thoroughbred," she reflected cynically; "and the only amusement anybody
can get out of it will be at my expense! Rosamund is a perfect cat!"

* * * * *

He had sent for his cab, which, no doubt, was in line somewhere, wedged
among the ranks of carriages stretching east and west along the snowy
street; and he stood on the thick crimson carpet under the awning while
it was being summoned. A few people like himself were not staying for
the dance; others who had dined by pr