The moment was so rich that William crossed the street with a slower step. His mood changed: an exaltation had come upon him, though he was never for an instant unaware of the tragedy beneath all this worldly show and glamor. It was the last night of the divine visit; to-morrow the town would lie desolate, a hollow shell in the dust, without her. Miss Pratt would be gone--gone utterly--gone away on the TRAIN! But to-night was just beginning, and to-night he would dance with her; he would dance and dance with her--he would dance and dance like mad! He and she, poetic and fated pair, would dance on and on! They would be intoxicated by the lights--the lights, the flowers, and the music. Nay, the flowers might droop, the lights might go out, the music cease and dawn come--she and he would dance recklessly on--on--on! A sense of picturesqueness--his own picturesqueness--made him walk rather theatrically as he passed through the groups of humble onlookers outside the picket fence. Many of these turned to stare at the belated guest, and William was unconscious of neither their low estate nor his own quality as a patrician man-about-town in almost perfectly fitting evening dress. A faint, cold smile was allowed to appear upon his lips, and a fragment from a story he had read came momentarily to his mind.... “Through the gaping crowds the young Augustan noble was borne down from the Palatine, scornful in his jeweled litter....” An admiring murmur reached William's ear. “OH, oh, honey! Look attem long-tail suit! 'At's a rich boy, honey!” “Yessum, SO! Bet he got his pockets pack' full o' twenty-dolluh gol' pieces right iss minute!” “You right, honey!” William allowed the coldness of his faint smile to increase to become scornful. These poor sidewalk creatures little knew what seethed inside the alabaster of the young Augustan noble! What was it to THEM that this was Miss Pratt's last night and that he intended to dance and dance with her, on and on? Almost sternly he left these squalid lives behind him and passed to the festal gateway. Upon one of the posts of that gateway there rested the elbow of a contemplative man, middleaged or a little worse. Of all persons having pleasure or business within the bright inclosure, he was, that evening, the least important; being merely the background parent who paid the bills. However, even this unconsidered elder shared a thought in common with the Augustan now approaching: Mr. Parcher had just been thinking that there was true romance in the scene before him.