and superior age, evidently her mother. The man was young and almost
vulgarly well-groomed. He had given a glance at Margaret as she
entered, a glance of admiration tempered with the consideration that
in spite of her grace and beauty, she was probably older than
himself. Then he continued to gaze furtively at the young girl who
sat demurely, with eyes downcast beneath a soft, wild tangle of dark
hair, against which some pink roses and a blue feather on her hat
showed fetchingly. She was very well dressed, evidently a
well-guarded young thing from one of the summer colonies. The mother,
high corseted, and elegant in dark blue lines, which made only a
graceful concession to age, without fairly admitting it, never
allowed one glance of the young man's to escape her. She also saw her
slender young daughter with every sense in her body and mind.

Margaret looked away from them. The elder woman had given her costume
an appreciative, and herself a supercilious glance, which had been
met with one which did not seem to recognise her visibility. Margaret
was not easily put down by another woman. She stared absently at the
ornate and weary decorations of the room. It was handsome, but
tiresome, as everybody who entered realised, and as, no doubt, the
decorator had found out. It was a ready-made species of room, with no
heart in it, in spite of the harmonious colour scheme and really
artistic detail.

Presently the boy with the silver tray entered and approached
Margaret. The young man stared openly at her. He began to wonder if
she were not younger than he had thought. The girl never raised her
downcast eyes; the older woman cast one swift sharp glance at her.
The boy murmured so inaudibly that Margaret barely heard, and she
rose and followed him as he led the way to the elevator. Miss