He stopped abruptly, struck by the expression of Jean's face. She had evidently not heard his words, for she was staring straight before her with strained, unseeing eyes. Her mouth was compressed with a look of suffering in the lines. Cliff was very fond of Jean. He knew her better than the other girls, for she and Eleanor were such fast friends. He did not stop to ponder on the cause of her unhappiness, but hastily resolved to shield her if possible. Eleanor leaned forward to speak to her across him, but he brought his slender figure between them. "You can talk to Jean all day, and every day. It is my turn to-night, my dear, and I intend to monopolize you to my heart's content." When Cliff spoke in that tone Eleanor knew there was no appeal to be made, so she yielded the point at once with very good grace. As the stage jolted lumberingly on its way, Jean saw nothing of the beauty of the night, heard nothing of the merry laughter, the gay snatches of song which reverberated around her. It was, perhaps, a trifling circumstance that Farr had seated himself quite at the other end of the stage, and at Miss Stuart's side, but to Jean, in her unhappy state of mind, it meant a great deal. To her the interchange of glances a few moments since had been tantamount to a truce between them. She had been so sure that Farr would make an effort to secure a place beside her that she had purposely crowded up in the corner, leaving a space for him between Eleanor and herself. Her humiliation was poignant, complete. The wound to vanity was beneficial in its effect, rousing all her self-respect, and determining her to hide the truth from Farr at all hazards. "I must be brave," she said to herself resolutely. "I must let him see that I am happy and light-hearted," and she closed her lips firmly to still their quivering. She was quite mistress of herself by the time the hotel was reached. The Maynards, with their friends the Endicotts, awaited them on the brilliantly lighted veranda, and as they descended from the stage with merry jest and laughter, Maynard left his wife's side and ran down the steps to welcome them. He was a good-looking man, with a particularly charming and cordial manner. He had never given much thought to the Hetherford girls; in his mind he stigmatized them as provincial and uninteresting; but to-night, as Jean, standing in the full glare of the hotel office, unwound the scarf from around her neck, and flung back her wrap, an exclamation of surprise rose to his lips. Jean was, indeed, looking very lovely. There were faint shadows under the deep blue eyes, the sweet mouth drooped slightly, lending new beauty and depth of expression to her face. Maynard hastened to offer her his arm, and they moved slowly down the long hall to the entrance of the ball-room. The music had just begun when Farr's voice fell on Jean's ears. At his first words she turned a startled face toward him: