“You!” he cried.  “You!”

“It isn’t anything very unusual, is it?” she smiled.

“I’m not the first person in the world to make the attempt.”

“And may I ask if you’re succeeding?”

“I haven’t begun yet.  I only arrived a few days ago.

“Oh, I see.  You’ve come here—­”

“In the hope of finding employment—­just like the rest of the disinherited of the earth.  I hope to give French lessons, and—­”

“There’s always an opening to any one who can,” he interrupted, encouragingly.  “I’m not without influence in one or two good schools that my daughter has attended—­”

“Is that your daughter?” she asked, glad to escape from her subject, now that it was stated plainly—­“the very pretty girl in red?”

The question gave Pruyn the excuse he wanted or looking about him.

“I believe she’s in red—­but I don’t see her.”

He searched the dimly lighted room, where Mrs. Wappinger sat, silent and satisfied, behind her tea-table, while Mrs. Eveleth was conversing with Lucilla on Knickerbocker genealogy; but neither of the young people was to be seen.  His look of anxiety did not escape Diane, who responded to it with her usual straightforward promptness.

“I fancy she’s still in the ball-room with young Mr. Wappinger,” she explained.  “We were all there a few minutes ago, looking at the decorations for the dance Mrs. Wappinger is giving to-night.  It was before you came.”

The shadow that shot across his face was a thing to be noticed only by one accustomed to read the most trivial signs in the social sky.  In an instant she took in the main points of the case as accurately as if Mrs. Wappinger had named those names over which she had shown such laudable reserve.

“Wouldn’t you like to see them?—­the decorations?  They’re very pretty.  It’s just in here.”

She rose as she spoke, with a gesture of the hand toward the ball-room.  He followed, because she led the way, but without seeing the meaning of the move until they were actually on the polished dancing-floor.  Owing to the darkness of the December afternoon, the large empty room was lit up as brilliantly as at night.  For a minute they stood on the threshold, looking absently at the palms grouped in the corners and the garlands festooning the walls.  It was only then that Pruyn saw the motive of her coming; and for an instant he forgot his worry in the perception that this woman had divined his thought.

“There’s no one here,” he said, at last, in a tone of relief, which betrayed him once more.

“No,” Diane replied, half turning round.  “Perhaps we had better go back to the drawing-room.  My mother-in-law will be getting tired.”

“Wait,” he said, imperiously.  “Isn’t that—?”