A little later, Keith went over to where Mrs. Lancaster stood.  Several men were about her, and just after Keith Joined her, another man walked up, if any movement so lazy and sauntering could be termed walking.

“I have been wondering why I did not see you,” he drawled as he came up.

Keith recognized the voice of Ferdy Wickersham.  He turned and faced him; but if Mr. Wickersham was aware of his presence, he gave no sign of it.  His dark eyes were on Mrs. Lancaster.  She turned to him.

“Perhaps, Ferdinand, it was because you did not use your eyes.  That is not ordinarily a fault of yours.”

“I never think of my eyes when yours are present,” said he, lazily.

“Oh, don’t you?” laughed Mrs. Lancaster.  “What were you doing a little while ago in the conservatory—­with—?”

“Nothing.  I have not been in the conservatory this evening.  You have paid some one else a compliment.”

“Tell that to some one who does not use her eyes,” said Mrs. Lancaster, mockingly.

“There are occasions when you must disbelieve the sight of your eyes.”  He was looking her steadily in the face, and Keith saw her expression change.  She recovered herself.

“Last time I saw you, you vowed you had eyes for none but me, you may remember?” she said lightly.

“No.  Did I?  Life is too awfully short to remember.  But it is true.  It is the present in which I find my pleasure.”

Up to this time neither Mrs. Lancaster nor Mr. Wickersham had taken any notice of Keith, who stood a little to one side, waiting, with his eyes resting on the other young man’s face.  Mrs. Lancaster now turned.

“Oh, Mr. Keith.”  She now turned back to Mr. Wickersham.  “You know Mr. Keith?”

Keith was about to step forward to greet his old acquaintance; but Wickersham barely nodded.

“Ah, how do you do?  Yes, I know Mr. Keith.—­If I can take care of the present, I let the past and the future take care of themselves,” he continued to Mrs. Lancaster.  “Come and have a turn.  That will make the present worth all of the past.”

“Ferdy, you are discreet,” said one of the other men, with a laugh.

“My dear fellow,” said the young man, turning, “I assure you, you don’t know half my virtues.”

“What are your virtues, Ferdy?”

“One is not interfering with others.”  He turned back to Mrs. Lancaster.  “Come, have a turn.”  He took one of his hands from his pocket and held it out.

“I am engaged,” said Mrs. Lancaster.

“Oh, that makes no difference.  You are always engaged; come,” he said.

“I beg your pardon.  It makes a difference in this case,” said Keith, coming forward.  “I believe this is my turn, Mrs. Lancaster?”

Wickersham’s glance swept across, but did not rest on him, though it was enough for Keith to meet it for a second, and, without looking, the young man turned lazily away.