But Perry, peering through the uncertain eyes of the camel, saw only her face, radiant, animated, and glowing with excitement, and her arms and shoulders, whose mobile, expressive gestures made her always the outstanding figure in any group. He was fascinated and his fascination exercised a sobering effect on him. With a growing clarity the events of the day came back--rage rose within him, and with a half-formed intention of taking her away from the crowd he started toward her--or rather he elongated slightly, for he had neglected to issue the preparatory command necessary to locomotion. But at this point fickle Kismet, who for a day had played with him bitterly and sardonically, decided to reward him in full for the amusement he had afforded her. Kismet turned the tawny eyes of the snake-charmer to the camel. Kismet led her to lean toward the man beside her and say, “Who’s that? That camel?” “Darned if I know.” But a little man named Warburton, who knew it all, found it necessary to hazard an opinion: “It came in with Mr. Tate. I think part of it’s probably Warren Butterfield, the architect from New York, who’s visiting the Tates.” Something stirred in Betty Medill--that age-old interest of the provincial girl in the visiting man. “Oh,” she said casually after a slight pause. At the end of the next dance Betty and her partner finished up within a few feet of the camel. With the informal audacity that was the key-note of the evening she reached out and gently rubbed the camel’s nose. “Hello, old camel.” The camel stirred uneasily. “You ’fraid of me?” said Betty, lifting her eyebrows in reproof. “Don’t be. You see I’m a snake-charmer, but I’m pretty good at camels too.” The camel bowed very low and some one made the obvious remark about beauty and the beast. Mrs. Townsend approached the group. “Well, Mr. Butterfield,” she said helpfully, “I wouldn’t have recognised you.” Perry bowed again and smiled gleefully behind his mask. “And who is this with you?” she inquired. “Oh,” said Perry, his voice muffled by the thick cloth and quite unrecognizable, “he isn’t a fellow, Mrs. Townsend. He’s just part of my costume.” Mrs. Townsend laughed and moved away. Perry turned again to Betty. “So,” he thought, “this is how much she cares! On the very day of our final rupture she starts a flirtation with another man--an absolute stranger.” On an impulse he gave her a soft nudge with his shoulder and waved his head suggestively toward the hall, making it clear that he desired her to leave her partner and accompany him. “By-by, Rus,” she called to her partner. “This old camel’s got me. Where we going, Prince of Beasts?” The noble animal made no rejoinder, but stalked gravely along in the direction of a secluded nook on the side stairs.