“If she can throw this little spy off her guard—if I can get them both to begin to enjoy themselves a little, and then drop into an easy, hidden intimacy with Miss Romaine, then my patroness’ little spy game here will be useless. “For, if that woman learned to love a man, she would go through fire and water for him.” The throbbing of his heart made his voice tremble, and the veiled purpose of his crafty soul crept into his eyes, though they only rested on her superbly molded arms and slender, delicate hands, when he carelessly said: “If you would kindly leave me your private address, Miss Garland, I might need it. There may be some extra call of duty. I might wish to communicate with you.” There was a slight flush upon her cheek as the delicate lips slowly parted. “I live at some distance, Mr. Vreeland, with private friends, and it would be impossible for me to render you any other services than as arranged. I have no one to escort me, and I never receive visitors.” The voice was as cold as the glacier’s rills. Her beauty shone out as pure as an Easter lily, when she simply said: “Miss Kelly will, however, send any communication you might have to make. I am an absolute stranger in New York. The references which I gave Miss Marble are from old friends in Buffalo. I can, however, at all times, stay as late as Miss Kelly does, on any occasion when you may have overwork.” The young Diana’s pure brow was loftily brave in its innocence. Vreeland’s eyes hungrily followed her as she moved quietly away in answer to his grave bow of dismissal. “More time. More time,” he murmured. “If I could find some way to gain her personal confidence. Flowers, books, little attentions, a stray set of theatre or opera tickets. For she is, after all, only a woman. Fit to reign, royal in youth, and serving without stooping. “I must see Miss Marble. The ice once broken, perhaps—” He mused long upon an ingenious plan to “brighten the life” of the woman he would use as a tool. “Yes, it can be done, easily, through the Marble.” And he knew that veteran traitress would aid him for money. The week before the day of Mrs. Willoughby’s ceremonial dinner was wasted by Vreeland in some amateur detective work. Miss Justine Duprez easily diagnosed the growing friendship of the two young girls. For Miss Garland’s sweet, tender face was already familiar in the little household where Mary Kelly’s mother watched and wondered from what fairyland this bright-faced nymph had descended. A stout school lad of sixteen was an efficient home escort for the young neophyte in New York, and pride filled the eyes of Mary Kelly’s brother. Vreeland felt all the growing charm of the steadfast girl’s influence, her cultured manners, her dainty refinement and the rare delicacy of her language and taste. He valued her as of superior clay.