His next plan was to meet Gladys somewhere, if possible. It was easy enough to do this, by securing invitations to the receptions among the _elite_, and a few evenings later he found her at a fashionable party on Lexington avenue. She seemed lovelier than ever, with the rosy glow of perfect health on her face, her beautiful eyes gleaming with happiness, and her lips wreathed with smiles. Her dress, on this occasion, was vastly becoming, consisting of a deep shade of ecru, embroidered with a delicate shade of blue intermingled with silver. Ornaments of silver in filigree, and set with diamonds, were on her neck and arms, while a graceful _aigrette_ of blue and white was fastened in her hair by a star, to match her other ornaments. She started slightly as she met Everet Mapleson’s glance fixed upon her. He was so much like Geoffrey that it was almost impossible, even now, for her to distinguish them apart. The next moment he was bowing before her, with extended hand. “It seems a long time since we met, Miss Huntress,” he said, in a tone which deepened the color in her cheeks, for it reminded her vividly of not only their last meeting, but also their parting. But she thought best to ignore it all, and so returned his greeting with lady-like courtesy. “I suppose you have been in your Southern home, Mr. Mapleson,” she said. “I should think you would hardly like to leave its genial climate for our rigorous winter here.” “There are sometimes stronger attractions than a genial climate in winter,” he replied, with an earnest look into her lovely eyes. “Yes, New York is very attractive just now,” she returned, determined not to appropriate his significant remark to herself, “Do you remain here long?” “I think I may stay through _this month_,” he answered, with an emphasis upon the last two words that brought the quick blood again to her cheeks, for she knew that he was thinking of her approaching marriage. Still, she was willfully obtuse. “What!” she exclaimed, archly. “Can you content yourself away from home during the holidays?” “Yes—at least for _this_ year. Miss Huntress, will you give my name a place upon your dancing-list?” he asked, glancing at the card that was suspended by a silken cord from her corsage. Gladys opened and held it up before him, with a smile. It was full, and she was glad it happened so. His face fell, for his quick glance detected Geoffrey’s name against several dances. “I am too late, I perceive,” he said, with a bow; “but, _perchance_ I may be more fortunate before the month is out.” Something in his tone more than the words made her regard him closely, and a sort of chill smote her heart as she marked the peculiar gleam in his eye and the resolute lines about his mouth. Some one claimed her just then, and, with a polite bow, she excused herself and left him, glad to get away from his presence. The next time they met was more than a week later, at the opera.