“A lack of originality on my part, I think,” Patricia replied. “The ‘bonnie prince’ is one of my pet heroes, so I suggested him for Lionel, and Mary Queen of Scots seemed to follow suit. By the way, Mamie, what sort of people have you here?” “All sorts and conditions. Authors, actors, musicians, artists, a sprinkling of politicians, and many mere society people. They are all thoroughly respectable, I assure you, my dear, and as you won’t be introduced, it doesn’t matter if you should happen to dance with someone of whom, ordinarily, your chaperon would not approve. Here, Equality is the watchword. In the matter of this masked ball, at least, I am a law unto myself.” She bowed and swept away on the arm of a chivalrous knight. The musicians struck up the spirited tune of a new dance which had recently been invented, and the lovers, preferring to witness it rather than to take part, mounted to the gallery in order to view the _mise en scène_. The ball-room was decorated in white and gold, the clusters of electric light arranged to form huge daffodils hanging at measured intervals from the painted ceiling. The musicians were almost hidden by a bank of flowers, consisting principally of orchids and the rarest ferns; a similar bank adorned the other end of the room. The motley dresses of the guests—some attractive, some merely grotesque—lent a brilliancy which was somewhat bizarre in its effect. To the onlookers, the combination of personalities was curious—perhaps not without significance to some who were there. “There is Oliver Cromwell dancing with a charming little _vivandière_,” observed Patrica, with amusement. “What must the shade of that worthy Puritan think—if think it can?” “Let us hope that in the course of centuries it has gained sense,” Lionel responded lightly. “Do you not recognise the _vivandière_? It is our Raie.” “Miss Emanuel? How _petite_ she looks; and the Cromwell, who is he, I wonder?” “I have no idea; but we had better avoid him, hadn’t we? Cromwell was rather antagonistic towards the Stuarts, you know.” She laughed. “All the more reason why we should attempt a reconciliation now. Don’t be surprised if you see me as his partner a little later on.” The lovers were obliged to separate when the music came to a close, for both were engaged elsewhere. Patricia was taken back to Mrs. Lowther, and Lionel went off to find “Cleopatra,” otherwise Zillah Lorm. He saw his sweetheart, a few minutes later, dancing with a courtier of the period of Louis XIV., and could not help remarking how sweet she looked. Miss Lorm’s eyes gleamed through the eyelets of her mask as she made a response; she was not one of those who care to hear any individual of their own sex praised.