mysteries and wonders. It is I who am the stranger!"

"Hush!" she said, in a voice of curious pain. "Hush! Let us go back. We
must dance--whether we will or not."

He followed her without protest. The very rustle of her muslin skirts over
the fallen leaves made for his ears a new and fantastic music.

Close behind them wandered the two captains, Webb and Saunders, arm in
arm. At the entrance to Colonel Carmichael's Memorial Webb stopped, and,
striking a match against the door, proceeded to light his cigar. The tiny
flame lit up for an instant the languid patrician features.

"A cigar is one's only comfort in a dull affair like this," he remarked,
as they resumed their leisurely promenade. "Awful wine, wasn't it?"

"Awful. The Colonel is beginning to put on the curb--or his lady. It's the
same thing."

"It will be better when the club comes into existence," said Webb, blowing
consolatory clouds of smoke into the quiet air.

"It is to be hoped so. Spunky devil, that Travers. Wonder how he means to
do the trick. He knows how to pick out a pretty partner, anyhow."

"That Cary girl? Yes. Wait till the heat has dried her up, though. She'll
be a scarecrow, like the rest of them. By the way, what were her people?"

"Heaven knows--something in the D.P.W., I believe. The mother was dressed
in the queerest kit."