During this time he was keeping up quite an animated conversation with his host, who was telling him, with pride, that _this_ pretty girl was Miss This, and that pretty girl Miss So-and-So. But Victor Lamont would sooner have known who their fathers were. At length, as his eyes traveled about the great ball-room with business-like carefulness, his gaze fell upon a slender figure in rose pink and fairly covered with diamonds. They blazed like ropes of fire about the white throat and on the slender arms; they twinkled like immense stars from the shell-like ears and coyly draped bosom, and rose in a great tiara over the highly piled blonde hair. She was standing under a great palm-tree, its green branches forming just the background that was needed to perfect the dainty picture in pink. She was surrounded as usual by a group of admirers. Victor Lamont's indifference vanished. He was interested at last. "Who is the young lady under the palm directly opposite?" he asked, quickly. "The belle of Newport," was the reply. "Shall I present you?" "I should be delighted," was the quick response. Instantly rebellion rose in the heart of every girl in the room, and resentment showed in scores of flushed cheeks and angry eyes as the hero of the evening was led over to pretty Sally Gardiner. No wonder they watched him with dismay. From the moment graceful Mr. Lamont was presented to her, he made no attempt to disguise how completely he was smitten by her. "That is a delightful waltz," he said, bending over the little hand as the dance music struck up. Sally bowed, and placed a dainty little hand lightly on his shoulder, his arm encircled the slender waist, and away they went whirling through the bewildering stretch of ball-room, a cloud of pink and flashing diamonds, the curly blonde head and the blonde, mustached face dangerously near each other. CHAPTER XXXVI. If young Mrs. Gardiner heard the ominous whispers on all sides of her, regarding her open flirtation with handsome Victor Lamont, she did not heed them. She meant to show the haughty husband whom she had learned to hate with such a deadly hatred, that other men would show her attention. The world owed her pleasure, a good time, and love by right of her youth and beauty, and she meant to have them at whatever cost. Victor Lamont struck her fancy. He was gay, debonair, and was certainly in love with her; and, in open defiance of the consequences, she rushed madly on, in her quest of pleasure, toward the precipice covered with flowers that was yawning to receive her.