There was a black velvet curtain behind him which accentuated his
fairness. He did not look nineteen. Jean had a fleeting vision of a
certain steel engraving of the "Princes in the Tower" which had hung in
her grandmother's house. Derry was not in the least like those lovely
imprisoned boys, yet she had an overwhelming sense of his kinship to
them.

As young Drake's eyes swept the room, he was aware of Jean on the
balcony steps. She was in white and silver, with a touch of that
heavenly blue which seemed to belong to her. Her crinkled hair was
combed quaintly over her ears and back from her forehead. He smiled at
her, but she apparently did not see him.

He made his way to Mrs. Witherspoon. "I was so sorry to get here late.
But my other engagements kept me. If I could have dined at two places,
you should have had at least a half of me."

"We wanted the whole. You know Dr. McKenzie, Derry?"

The two men shook hands. "May I dance with your daughter?" Derry said,
smiling.

"Of course. She is up there on the stairs."

Jean saw him coming. Ever since Derry had stood in the door she had
been trying to make up her mind how she would treat him when he came.
Somebody ought to show him that his millions didn't count. She hadn't
thought of his millions last night. If he had been just the shabby boy
of the Toy Shop, she would have liked his eyes just as much, and his
voice!