The dusk came before Betty had finished her preparations for the next day, and then it was time to dress for the party at Marrowbone, the Lindsay place, where there were young students home from the University of Virginia, and a great jollification was to be had. The clutch of cold upon the world had tightened as the red sun disappeared and the stars came out in the dark blue heavens. In Betty's little white bedroom, however, a glorious wood fire was roaring, and the scent of the odoriferous wood and the geraniums in the window made a delicious atmosphere. Betty stood before the fire, warming her little feet, and saying to herself: "How I wish we could afford to have a boy to bring up wood and pick up chips and do so many things that Uncle Cesar has to do, and really isn't able, poor old soul!" Then Betty's mind reverted to former Christmases, at Rosehill, when there were plenty of servants and plenty of everything except money, and Betty in her ignorance knew nothing of debts and duns and mortgages and such unpleasant things. She looked about her with a little air of discontent, and thought of her beautiful big corner bedroom at Rosehill, with its marble mantel and the ornamental plaster frieze around the ceiling, and the bell to ring, by which a maid always appeared. But, being a courageous person, Betty took herself in hand, and put an immediate stop to painful reflections. She went up to the little dressing table, lighted by a candle on each side of the mirror, and, shaking her small fist wrathfully at her reflection in the glass, proceeded to lecture herself severely. "Now, Betty Beverley," she said sternly, puckering her forehead, "this sort of useless repining is perfectly disgraceful, and has got to stop. Do you understand, Betty? _It has got to stop._ You have got your grandfather and a great many comforts and blessings, and you don't owe any money, and you are young and very, very pretty----" At this point, Betty's brow smoothed out, her eyes assumed a beatific expression, and her rosy lips came wide open, showing a lovely, elusive dimple in her left cheek. "It is no use denying it, it is a fact and a very agreeable one, but, as Aunt Tulip says, 'Beauty ain't nothin'; behavior's all.' Your good looks won't amount to anything if you are a coward and a poltroon; and you, a soldier's daughter and granddaughter, with no more pluck than a chicken! Betty, I am ashamed of you. Now, make up your mind to act like a soldier's daughter and granddaughter----" And at this moment, Fortescue, whose image had been lingering in Betty's memory, suddenly came to the front. She saw him in her mind's eye, galloping past the window, his military cloak around him, his cap set firmly on his handsome head, his look, his attitude, everything about him, proclaiming the soldier. Betty's smile changed from mirth to one of dreamy anticipation. There is much flavor in the wine of life at twenty.