Mrs. Ralston's eyes of faded blue watched Stella with a distressed look.
She was not hurt on her own account, but she hated to hear the girl
criticized in so unfriendly a spirit. Stella was more brilliantly
beautiful that night than she had ever before seen her, and she longed
to hear a word of appreciation from that hostile group of women. But she
knew very well that the longing was vain, and it was with relief that
she saw Captain Dacre himself saunter up to claim Mrs. Ermsted for a
partner.

Smiling, debonair, complacent, the morrow's bridegroom had a careless
quip for all and sundry on that last night. It was evident that his
_fiancée's_ defection was a matter of no moment to him. Stella was to
have her fling, and he, it seemed, meant to have his. He and Mrs.
Ermsted had had many a flirtation in the days that were past and it was
well known that Captain Ermsted heartily detested him in consequence.
Some even hinted that matters had at one time approached very near to a
climax, but Ralph Dacre knew how to handle difficult situations, and
with considerable tact had managed to avoid it. Little Mrs. Ermsted,
though still willing to flirt, treated him with just a tinge of
disdain, now-a-days; no one knew wherefore. Perhaps it was more for
Stella's edification than her own that she condescended to dance with
him on that sweltering evening of Indian spring.

But Stella was evidently too engrossed with her own affairs to pay much
attention to the doings of her _fiancé_. His love-making was not of a
nature to be carried on in public. That would come later when they
walked home through the glittering night and parted in the shadowy
verandah while Tommy tramped restlessly about within the bungalow. He
would claim that as a right she knew, and once or twice remembering the