She was engaged in her final purchase when a dazzling creature in red and white descended upon her with exclamations of surprise and delight. It was Mademoiselle Demorest herself, and her greeting was so effusive that the stream of shoppers halted in the aisle. Mademoiselle Demorest wore a gown of a style that proved her taste in dress as individual as her choice of motor-cars. A war-like head-decoration of aigrette feathers burst into spray above her right ear; the wrists of her white gloves bore her monogram worked in gold-thread to match those that ornamented the livery of her servants. A heavy string of white-coral beads, the size of cherries, was looped about her neck, and she carried the mate to the excitable poodle that defied the curiosity-seekers outside. All in all, she was a figure to awaken interest in the nightly performance at the Palace Garden, and to cause men customers to forget their change. "Miss Knight! I'm SO glad to see you again," she burbled. "How SWEET you look!" The poodle pawed frantically and yelped a shrill appreciation of the meeting. "I hoped we'd meet again; but where HAVE you been? I--Hush, Francois! Shake hands with the lady, there's a dear." Francois squirmed violently and snapped at a small boy whose mother had pushed forward to stare at the notorious beauty. Lorelei laughed. "How well he minds!" "He hates children--they excite him." The woman with the child turned to a companion, exclaiming audibly: "Those are the King's rubies--see! Ain't they nice and white?" A fat matron beside Lorelei elbowed her way forward; in one hand she carried a pair of embroidered silk stockings, with the other she raised a lorgnette. After a measured scrutiny her lips tightened, her nose lifted, she blew loudly like a porpoise, and, gathering her skirts closely, waddled away, as if fleeing from contagion. She continued to clutch the hosiery until a floor-walker, in answer to the clerk's frantic signal, intercepted her. Another crowd promptly gathered to listen to her indignant denial of guilt. "Have you finished your shopping?" Adoree inquired. "Then do come and help me match some rose du Barry. I've no more eye for color than Francois. Pink is just another shade of blue to me." "Gee! He's alive, all right," piped the small boy, whose eyes were glued upon the poodle. "Ma, what does a live dog cost?" Lorelei felt herself flushing uncomfortably under the stares of the onlookers, and, glad to escape, she moved away beside the undisturbed cause of all the furore. Miss Demorest seemed genuinely delighted at this encounter. She clung to her companion, chattering vivaciously; then, when the rose du Barry had been matched, she suggested tea. "We'll run right over to the Waldorf--my car is outside." But Lorelei declined, explaining lamely that she did not care for public places. "Really?" "Really. People point out one--and I get enough of that."