But there was a girl--a debutante, very desirable for Clive his mother thought--one Winifred Stuart--and very delightful to look upon. And Clive had seen just enough of her to like her exceedingly; and, at dances, had even wandered about to look for her, and had evinced boredom and dissatisfaction when she had not been present. Which inspired his mother to give a theatre party for little Miss Stuart and two dozen other youngsters, and a supper at the Regina afterward. It was an excellent idea; and it went as wrong as such excellent ideas so often go. For as Clive in company with the others sauntered into the splendid reception room of the Regina, he saw Athalie come in with a man whom he had never before seen. The shock of recognition--for it was a shock--was mutual. Athalie's dark eyes widened and a little colour left her cheeks: and Clive reddened painfully. It was, perhaps, scarcely the thing to do, but as she advanced he stepped forward, and their hands met. "I am so very glad to see you again," he said. "I too, Clive. Are you well?" "And you?" "Quite," she hesitated; there was a moment's pause while the two men looked coolly at each other. "May I present Mr. Bailey, Captain Dane?" Further she did not account for Captain Dane, who presently took her off somewhere leaving Clive to return to his smiling but enraged mother. Never had he found any supper party so noisy, so mirthless, and so endless. Half the time he didn't know what he was saying to Winifred Stuart or to anybody else. Nor could he seem to see anybody very distinctly, for the mental phantoms of Athalie and Captain Dane floated persistently before him, confusing everything at moments except the smiling and deadly glance of his mother. Afterward they went to their various homes in various automobiles, and Clive was finally left with his mother in his own drawing-room. "What you did this evening," she said to her son, "was not exactly the thing to do under the circumstances, Clive." "Why not?" he asked wearily as her maid relieved her of her sables and lace hood. "Because it was not necessary.... That girl you spoke to was the Greensleeve girl I suppose?" "Yes, Athalie Greensleeve." "Who was the man?" "I don't know--a Captain Dane I believe." "Wasn't a civil bow enough?" "Enough? Perhaps; I don't know, mother. I don't seem to know how much is due her from me. She's never had anything from me so far--anything worth having--" "Don't be a fool, Clive." He said, absently: "It's too late for such advice! I _am_ a fool. And I don't quite understand how not to be one." His mother, rather fearful of arousing in him any genuine emotion, discreetly kissed him good night. "You're a slightly romantic boy," she said. "There is nothing else the matter with you." They mounted the velvet-covered stairway together, her arm around his neck, his encircling a slender, pliant waist that a girl of sixteen might have envied. Her maid followed with furs and hood.