"I'm a mind reader, Mr. Blaney, and I perceive you mean me. But you're mistaken. I'm pretty, in a doll-faced way, but Mona is really beautiful." "You know where beauty is, Miss Fairfield. In the eye of the beholder." "Let me see. Yes," after she had looked straight into Blaney's eyes, "yes, you have beauty in your eyes." "The reflection of your face," he replied, serenely. "You are a flower-face; I never saw any one who so well merited the term. I must write a sonnet to Flower Face." "It can't be any better poetry than the verses you wrote to me at Lakewood. They are exquisite. Mayn't I show them?" "Please not. I fancied you would like to keep them just for yourself. Stay, I have a better name for you. Flower Soul, that's what you are. That shall be the theme of my sonnet. I think your soul is made of white lilac." "Why do you people always talk about souls?" asked Patty, gaily. "You don't mean souls really, you know; you mean--well, what do you mean?" "No, we don't mean souls in the theological sense, we mean the higher understanding and finer sensations." "Oh," said Patty, not much enlightened. "And you are coming to see us soon, aren't you? Alla said you promised her you would." "Yes, I did. And I will come. Do you have regular meetings, like a club,--or what?" "Yes, like a club, but not on set dates. I'll let you know when the next one--or, stay, I know now. There will be a gathering at our place next Tuesday night. Will you attend? May I come and fetch you?" "Yes, do, I'd love to be there. Gracious, here comes Mona. I must be with the others." Patty hurried across the room to stand with the bridal attendants, and, looking very handsome in her travelling costume, Mona bade them good-bye. There was no mad scramble as the bride and groom departed, but flower petals and confetti were showered on them, which they good-naturedly allowed. "Come along, my lady," said Roger, at last, as Mona delayed to talk to the girls. And then they went away, and some of the guests stayed to dance a little longer. "Come, Patty," said Van Reypen, as the orchestra struck up, "this is our dance." Patty assented, and they went gliding over the perfect floor. Philip said nothing while they danced, and Patty, too, was silent. This was unusual, for Patty generally chattered as she danced. "Tired, dear?" said Philip, at last. "A little. It has been a long evening." "And a strenuous one. I saw you were getting weary as you stood in that line of receiving so long. Come, let us sit down." Philip guided her to a pleasant settee, screened by tall palms, and seated himself beside her. "Poor little girl," he said, "you're all done up. You must go home soon, Patty. You can't dance any more tonight." "Oh, yes, I can. I'm not really tired. It's more excitement and----" "And nerves. I know,--Mona getting married means a lot to you. You're very intimate friends, aren't you?"