She laughed a little at this. The light in her eyes danced softly and girlishly. But for all her smiles Kenyon thought he saw a tightening at the corners of her mouth. It was as though she were possessed of a nervous dread of some sort. “I fancy,” thought the ex-lieutenant of Nunez, “that I have been inopportune in some way.” “You are not going to-night, then?” said Anna, eagerly. “Oh, yes,” replied Kenyon. “In a very little while.” There was an expression of relief in the girl’s eyes for an instant, and then she pouted. “I fancied that uncle would have you with us while you are in town.” She hesitated and then laid her hand upon his shoulder. “And I’m sure that Dallas would be pleased.” “Dallas?” “Of course. You must not be guided altogether by appearances. Neither should you heed what others might say. She is an odd girl in some ways. And proud!” with a pretty gesture of dismay. “I never saw such pride before.” It was _the_ girl that she referred to! Kenyon drew a long breath and then said: “I agree with you as to the pride. Her attitude toward me, so far, has been rather--ah--distant to say the least.” “Then she has not treated you well to-night?” “Is she here?” exclaimed Kenyon, caught by surprise. “To be sure. Mr. Farbush always insists upon our being present at affairs like this. He is a widower, you know, and he depends entirely upon us to entertain his guests. But is it possible that you have not spoken with her?” She gave him a curious glance. He saw that it would not do to make admissions of any sort; they were inclined to be dangerous. “I only ventured out of the smoking room upon one or two occasions,” remarked he. “And then the rooms were so crowded.” “Oh, yes; that is true.” But he could see that she was far from being satisfied, for she immediately came back to the subject. “You are not a very ardent lover, it would seem,” she laughed. “I should think that a man would be breathless in his search for his lady-love, anywhere in which he had occasion to think she would be.” “It is just possible,” answered Kenyon, slowly, “that I did not dream of finding her here.” She looked at him quickly, and he felt her small hand tighten upon his arm. “You are thinking of the affair of a few nights ago at Hong Yo’s,” she cried. “Oh, how dreadful, how horrible it must have been. And before her very eyes.” “You have heard about it, then?” “Griscom informed me. And then Dallas also told me, afterwards. But she was compelled to return here. No matter what has been done we cannot leave here, now.” “I suppose not,” answered Kenyon, in a thoughtful way. “There is much more than personal feeling to be considered.” “That is what we both think. Otherwise we would not have remained an instant after the night in--in Selden’s Square.” By this time the last carriage had departed, and they heard the front door slam. Then the harsh voice of Farbush was heard.