“Very,” answered Mr. Griggs, in a deep, manly voice, but without any special emphasis. “Very,” he repeated vaguely. “She was a mere girl--not out yet--when I was last at home,” he added, suddenly showing some interest. “By the bye, where is she?” asked Katharine, in the momentary pause which followed. “I was looking for her.” “Over there,” replied Mr. Griggs, nodding almost imperceptibly in the direction he meant to indicate. As he was over six feet in height, and could see over the heads of most of the people, Katharine had not gained any very accurate information. “You can see her,” he continued in explanation. “She’s sitting up among the frumps; she’s looking for her husband, and there’s a man with yellow hair talking to her--it’s her brother--over there between the first and second windows from the end where the music is. Do you make her out?” “Yes. How can you tell that she is looking for her husband at this distance?” Katharine laughed. “By her eyes,” answered Mr. Griggs. “She’s in love with him, you know--and she’s anxious about him for some reason or other. But I believe he’s all right now. I used to know him very well in Paris once upon a time. Clever fellow, but he had--oh, well, it’s nobody’s business. What a beautiful ball it is, Mrs. Lauderdale--” “What did Mr. Crowdie have in Paris?” asked Katharine, with sudden interest, and interrupting him. “Oh--he was subject to bad colds in winter,” answered Mr. Griggs, coolly. “Lungs affected, I believe--or something of that sort. As I was saying, Mrs. Lauderdale, this is a vast improvement on the dances they used to have in New York when I was young. That was long before your time, though I daresay your husband can remember them.” And he went on speaking, evidently making conversation of a most unprofitable kind in the most cold-blooded and cynical manner, by sheer force of habit, as people who have the manners of the world without its interests often do, until something strikes them. A young man, whose small head seemed to have just been squeezed through the cylinder of enamelled linen on which it rested as on a pedestal, came up to Katharine and asked her for a dance. She went away on his arm. After a couple of turns, she made him stop close to Hester Crowdie. “Thanks,” she said, nodding to her partner. “I want to speak to my cousin. You don’t mind--do you? I’ll give you the rest of the dance some other time.” And without waiting for his answer, she stepped upon the low platform which ran round the ball-room, and took the vacant seat by Hester’s side. Hamilton Bright, who had only been exchanging a word with his sister when Griggs had caught sight of him, was gone, and she was momentarily alone. “Hester,” began Katharine, “where is Jack Ralston? I’m perfectly sure your husband knows, and has told you, and I know that he has told my mother, from the way she spoke--”