Over the beach lies a layer of people, formed in groups, some of them costumed for the water, some for the shore; some of them known to the great lady, many of them unknown to her.  The groups are forever shifting as their members rise and run down to the sea, or come back shiny and dripping, to fling themselves again upon the warm sand, roll in it, or stretch out in lazy comfort while their friends shovel it over them with their hands.  Now one group, or another, will rise and form a grinning row while a snap-shot is taken; now they recline again; now they scamper down to see the hydroplane come in; now they return, drop to the sand, and idly watch women bathers tripping past them toward the water.  Here comes a girl in silken knickerbockers, with cuffs buttoning over her stockings like the cuffs of riding breeches.  Heads turn simultaneously as she goes by.  Here is a tomboy in a jockey cap; here two women wearing over their bathing suits brilliant colored satin wraps which flutter revealingly in the warm, fresh fragrant breeze.  And now comes the slender, aristocratic, foreign-looking beauty who wears high-heeled slippers with her bathing costume, and steps gracefully to the water’s edge under the shade of a bright colored Japanese parasol.  It seems that every one must now be on the beach.  But no!  Here come the three most wonderful of all:  the three most watched, most talked about, most spoiled, most coveted young women at Palm Beach.  Their bathing suits are charming:  very short, high waisted, and cut at the top like Empire evening gowns, showing lovely arms and shoulders.  Hovering about them, like flies about a box of sweets, yet also with something of the jealous guardianship of watchdogs, is their usual escort of young men—­for though they know none of the fashionable women, their beauty gives them a power of wide selection as to masculine society.

One is a show girl, famous in the way such girls become famous in a New York season, vastly prosperous (if one may judge by appearances), yet with a prosperity founded upon the capitalization of youth and amazing loveliness of person.  The other two, less advertised, but hardly less striking in appearance, have been nicknamed, for the convenience of the gossips, “The Queen of Sheba,” and “The Queen of the May.”  They too suggest, somehow, association with the trivial stage, but it is said that one of them—­the slender wonderfully rounded one—­has never had the footlights in her face, but has been (in some respects, at least), a model.

Like the climbers, like the bush league belle, these girls, we judge, brought definite ambitions with them to Palm Beach.  Partly, no doubt, they came for pleasure, but also one hears stories of successful ventures made by men, on their behalf, at Beach Club tables, and of costly rings and brooches which they now possess, although they did not bring them with them.  But after all, the sources from which come their jeweled trinkets may only be surmised, whereas,