“She wouldn’t look at me if she knew the truth,” he thought, “and that clever cousin will be letting it all out when he learns that we have met. Never mind. I’ll make hay while the sun shines, and do my best to ingratiate myself with her before he finds it out; she’s dusedly pretty and it would suit me finely if I could cut him out.” He detained the young ladies for a few moments longer—for he had the power of making himself very agreeable when he chose—then Addie Loring pulled forth a little gem of a watch and remarked, with a look of surprise: “Gladys, dear, we promised mamma to be at home by four, and it is nearly three now, while we have flowers yet to get for Mrs. Brevort’s reception.” Everet Mapleson’s heart gave a great bound at these last words, for the friends at whose house he was visiting also had cards for Mrs. Brevort’s reception, and he mentally resolved that he would grace that lady’s elegant drawing-room with his presence that evening, although he and Al Vanderwater had previously planned for something entirely different. He took pretty Miss Loring’s hint, however, begged pardon for having detained them so long, then made his adieus and passed out of the cafe, while the young girls moved forward to an empty table, where they chatted over the strange encounter as they ate their cream and cake. CHAPTER X. MRS. BREVORT’S RECEPTION. Gladys Huntress was very beautiful that evening when she entered Mrs. Brevort’s drawing-room, leaning on the arm of Mrs. Loring, who was to present her to their hostess, while Addie and her mother followed close behind. Her dress was blue, of elegant surah, which fell in soft, graceful folds around her, its long train making her most perfect figure seem almost regal. It was cut, front and back, with a V shaped bodice, and this was filled in with a profusion of soft filmy lace, gathered close about her white throat, and fastened with a string of rare, gleaming pearls. Her beautiful arms, round and as smooth as marble, were also covered, but not concealed, by sleeves of lace. Her nut-brown hair, which shone like finest satin, had all been drawn up and coiled around the top of her head like a gleaming coronet, while a few soft, silken rings curled charmingly about her pure forehead. There was not a flower nor an ornament about her anywhere excepting that string of pearls, but the very simplicity of her toilet was artistic and just adapted to enhance her beauty of face and form. Everet Mapleson saw her the moment that she entered the room; indeed, he had been watching her for a half-hour or more, and his eyes glowed with admiration.