Mrs. Parker Bowman sat up with a pink glow in her cheeks and a light in
her eyes. She began to plan how she might keep this acquisition and
exploit her among her friends. It was her delight to bring out new
features in her entertainments.

"We shall simply keep you playing until you drop from weariness," she
announced ecstatically, when the last wailing, sobbing, soothing chord had
died away; and the other ladies murmured, "How delightful!" and whispered
their approval.

The girl smiled and rippled into a Chopin Valse, under cover of which
those who cared to could talk in low tones. Afterwards the musician dashed
into the brilliant movement of a Beethoven Sonata.

It was just as she was beginning Rubinstein's exquisite tone portrait,
Kamennoi-Ostrow, that the gentlemen came in.

Tryon Dunham had had his much desired talk with the famous judge, but it
had not been about law.

They had been drawn together by mutual consent, each discovering that the
other was watching the young stranger as she left the dining-room.

"She is charming," said the old man, smiling into the face of the younger.
"Is she an intimate friend?"

"I--I hope so," stammered Dunham. "That is, I should like to have her
consider me so."