with Stanton, the artist received again that vivid impression of
beauty, which her face ever caused before time was given for closer
scrutiny. Indeed from his somewhat distant point of observation,
and in the less searching light, the fatal flaw could scarcely be
detected. Her affected tones and silly words could not be heard,
and he saw only dark lustrous eyes lighting up features that were
almost a revelation even to him with his artistic familiarity with
beauty.

"If I could always keep her at about that distance," he muttered,
"and arrange the lights and shadows in which to view her face, I
could not ask for a better study, for she would give me a basis of
perfect beauty, and I could add any expression of characteristic
that I desired." And now he feasted his eyes as a compensation,
in part, for the annoyance she had caused him in the glare of the
audience room.

He soon saw a frown lower upon her hitherto laughing face like the
shadow of a passing cloud, and it was evident that something had
been said that was not agreeable to her vanity.

A moment or two after Stanton had joined the young lady her escort
for the evening had excused himself for a brief time, and had left
the cousins together. She had then asked, "I say, Ik, who was that
gentleman you were talking with?"

"He's an old friend of mine."

"He's not an OLD friend of any one. He is young and quite good-looking,
or rather he has a certain 'distingue' air that makes one look at