When the party broke up, the street lamps were beginning to twinkle here and there, and Jack discovered to his surprise that the Twiss business would have to go over to another day.  It was such a hurrying life in New York.  There was just time for a cup of tea at Mrs. Trafton’s.  Everybody dropped in there after five o’clock, when the duties of the day were over, with the latest news, and to catch breath before rushing into the program of the evening.

There were a dozen ladies in the drawing-room when Jack entered, and his first impression was that the scream of conversation would be harder to talk against than a Wagner opera; but he presently got his cup of tea, and found a snug seat in the chimney-corner by Miss Tavish; indeed, they moved to it together, and so got a little out of the babel.  Jack thought the girl looked even prettier in her walking-dress than when he saw her at the studio; she had style, there was no doubt about that; and then, while there was no invitation in her manner, one felt that she was a woman to whom one could easily say things, and who was liable at any moment to say things interesting herself.

“Is this your first appearance since last night, Mr. Delancy?”

“Oh no; I’ve been racing about on errands all day.  It is very restful to sit down by a calm person.”

“Well, I never shut my eyes till nine o’clock.  I kept seeing that Spanish woman whirl around and contort, and—­do you mind my telling you?  —­I couldn’t just help it, I” (leaning forward to Jack) “got up and tried it before the glass.  There!  Are you shocked?”

“Not so much shocked as excluded,” Jack dared to say.  “But do you think—­“.

“Yes, I know.  There isn’t anything that an American girl cannot do.  I’ve made up my mind to try it.  You’ll see.”

“Will I?”

“No, you won’t.  Don’t flatter yourself.  Only girls.  I don’t want men around.”

“Neither do I,” said Jack, honestly.

Miss Tavish laughed.  “You are too forward, Mr. Delancy.  Perhaps some time, when we have learned, we will let in a few of you, to look in at the door, fifty dollars a ticket, for some charity.  I don’t see why dancing isn’t just as good an accomplishment as playing the harp in a Greek dress.”

“Nor do I; I’d rather see it.  Besides, you’ve got Scripture warrant for dancing off the heads of people.  And then it is such a sweet way of doing a charity.  Dancing for the East Side is the best thing I have heard yet.”

“You needn’t mock.  You won’t when you find out what it costs you.”

“What are you two plotting?” asked Mrs. Trafton, coming across to the fireplace.

“Charity,” said Jack, meekly.

“Your wife was here this morning to get me to go and see some of her friends in Hester Street.”

“You went?”

“Not today.  It’s awfully interesting, but I’ve been.”

“Edith seems to be devoted to that sort of thing,” remarked Miss Tavish.