to be classed as black--so near and yet so far."

"They don't accept our classification blindly. They do not acknowledge
any inferiority; they think they are a great deal better than any but
the best white people," replied Miss Hohlfelder. "And since they have
been coming here, do you know," she went on, "I hardly think of them as
any different from other people. I feel perfectly at home among them."

"It is a great thing to have faith in one's self," he replied. "It is a
fine thing, too, to be able to enjoy the passing moment. One of your
greatest charms in my eyes, Clara, is that in your lighter moods you
have this faculty. You sing because you love to sing. You find pleasure
in dancing, even by way of work. You feel the _joie de vivre_--the joy
of living. You are not always so, but when you are so I think you most
delightful."

Miss Hohlfelder, upon entering the hall, spoke to the pianist and then
exchanged a few words with various members of the class. The pianist
began to play a dreamy Strauss waltz. When the dance was well under way
Miss Hohlfelder left the hall again and stepped into the ladies'
dressing-room. There was a woman seated quietly on a couch in a corner,
her hands folded on her lap.

"Good-evening, Miss Hohlfelder. You do not seem as bright as usual
to-night."

Miss Hohlfelder felt a sudden yearning for sympathy. Perhaps it was the
gentle tones of the greeting; perhaps the kindly expression of the soft
though faded eyes that were scanning Miss Hohlfelder's features. The
woman was of the indefinite age between forty and fifty. There were