“You’ve only recently come over, Lord Montague?” asked Evelyn.

“Been here before—­Rockies, shooting, all that.  Just arrived now —­beastly trip, beastly.”

“And so you were glad to land?”

“Glad to land anywhere.  But New York suits me down to the ground.  It goes, as you say over here.  You know Paris?”

“We have been in Paris.  You prefer it?”

“For some thing.  Paris as it was in the Empire.  For sport, no.  For horses, no.  And” (looking boldly into her face) “when you speak of American women, Paris ain’t in it, as you say over here.”

And the noble lord, instead of passing on, wheeled about and took a position near Evelyn, so that he could drop his valuable observations into her ear as occasion offered.

To Philip Mrs. Mavick was civil, but she did not beam upon him, and she did not detain him longer than to say, “Glad to see you.”  But Evelyn —­could Philip be deceived?—­she gave him her hand cordially and looked into his eyes trustfully, as she had the habit of doing in the country, and as if it were a momentary relief to her to encounter in all this parade a friend.

“I need not say that I am glad you could come.  And oh” (there was time only for a word), “I saw the announcement.  Later, if you can, you will tell me more about it.”

Lord Montague stared at him as if to say, “Who the deuce are you?” and as Philip met his gaze he thought, “No, he hasn’t the manner of a stable boy; no one but a born nobleman could be so confident with women and so supercilious to men.”

But my lord, was little in his thought.  It was the face of Evelyn that he saw, and the dainty little figure; the warmth of the little hand still thrilled him.  So simple, and only a bunch of violets in her corsage for all ornament!  The clear, dark complexion, the sweet mouth, the wonderful eyes!  What could Jenks mean by intimating that she was plain?

Philip drifted along with the crowd.  He was very much alone.  And he enjoyed his solitude.  A word and a smile now and then from an acquaintance did not tempt him to come out of his seclusion.  The gay scene pleased him.  He looked for a moment into the ballroom.  At another time he would have tried his fortune in the whirl.  But now he looked on as at a spectacle from which he was detached.  He had had his moment and he waited for another.  The voluptuous music, the fascinating toilets, the beautiful faces, the graceful forms that were woven together in this shifting kaleidoscope, were, indeed, a part of his beautiful dream.  But how unreal they all were!  There was no doubt that Evelyn’s eyes had kindled for him as for no one else whom she had greeted.  She singled him out in all this crush, her look, the cordial pressure of her hand, conveyed the feeling of comradeship and understanding.  This was enough to fill his thought with foolish anticipations.  Is there any being quite so happy, quite so stupid, as a lover?  A lover, who hopes everything and fears everything, who goes in an instant from the heights of bliss to the depths of despair.