la Valla, the sugar king. He's got his daughters with him, so she had to
sit at another table, and he paid four passages for her so she'd be kept
alone."

Lewis nodded politely.

"Now slant your eyes over my left shoulder," continued the little man.

To Lewis's surprise, he saw another beautiful woman, a bright-eyed
brunette, sitting alone at a table for four. He turned, interested, to
his table companion for the explanation.

"Ah-ha!" said the little man, "you begin to wake up. That, my friend, is
Mlle. Folly Delaires. She's been playing in Buenos Aires. When she saw
people staring at the Duchess, she stepped up to the purser's office and
laid down the cash for a table for four. At first we thought it was just
vanity and a challenge, but we know her better now. She's just the devil
of mischief and several other things in the flesh. We ought all to be
grateful for her."

Lewis looked curiously at Mlle. Delaires. He watched to see her get up.
She passed close to him. She did not have the height that his training
had taught him was essential to beauty, but she had certain attributes
that made one suddenly class height with other bloodless statistics.
From her crown of brown hair to her tiny slippers she was alive.
Vitality did not radiate from her, but it seemed to lurk, like a
constant, in her whole body and in her every supple movement. Lewis did
not see it, but she was of the type that forever takes and never gives.

As she passed close by him he felt an utterly new sensation, as though