"_Au revoir, mon ami_." She nodded and was gone.

For several moments he stood by the door that had closed after her. Then
he chuckled, frowned, chuckled again and sat down once more before his
work table.

* * * * *




IV


The _salons_ of Mrs. Marteen's elaborate apartment were gay with flowers
and palms, sweet with perfumes and throbbing with music. Dorothy, an
airy, dazzling figure in white, her face radiant with innocent
excitement, stood by her mother, whose marble beauty had warmed with
happiness as Galatea may have thrilled to life. Everyone who was anybody
crowded the rooms, laughing, gossiping, congratulating, nibbling at
dainties and sipping beverages. The throng ebbed, renewed, passed from
room to room, to return again for a final look at the lovely débutante
and a final word with her no less attractive mother. A dozen
distinguished men, both young and old, sought to ingratiate themselves,
but Dorothy's joyous heart beat only for the day itself--her coming out,
the launching of her little ship upon the bright waters frequented by
Sirens, Argonauts and other delightful and adventurous people hitherto
but shadow fictions. It was as exciting and wonderful as Christmas. She
had been showered with presents, buried in roses. Everyone was filled
with friendly thoughts of which she was the center. There was no envy,