half a hundred mirrors, its subdued shimmer of plate and glass, its soberly
festive assemblage of circumspect men and women splendidly gowned, its
decorously muted murmur of voices penetrated and interwoven by the strains
of a hidden string orchestra--caressed his senses as always, yet with
a difference. To-night he saw it a room populous with lovers, lovers
insensibly paired, man unto woman attentive, woman of man regardful.

He had never understood this before. This much he had missed in life.

It seemed hard to realize that one must forego it all for ever.

Presently he found himself acutely self-conscious. The sensation puzzled
him; and without appearing to do so, he traced it from effect to cause; and
found the cause in a woman--a girl, rather, seated at a table the third
removed from him, near the farther wall of the room.

Too considerate, and too embarrassed, to return her scrutiny openly, look
for look, he yet felt sure that, however temporarily, he was become the
object of her intent interest.

Idly employed with his cigar, he sipped his coffee. In time aware that she
had turned her attention elsewhere, he looked up.

At first he was conscious of an effect of disappointment. She was nobody
that he knew, even by reputation. She was simply a young girl, barely out
of her teens--if as old as that phrase would signify. He wondered what she
had found in him to make her think him worth so long a study; and looked
again, more keenly curious.

With this second glance, appreciation stirred the artistic side of his