Yeh Ling, who seldom made any personal effort for the comfort of his guests, paid particular attention to the preparations which were being made in No. 6 that night. The Italian waiters, to whom the proprietor was almost unknown, were both nervous and annoyed, for nothing seemed to please Yeh Ling. He had the flowers changed half-a-dozen times. He had new cloths brought and at the last minute insisted upon the table being laid all over again. He brought the rarest of glass to adorn the board, unearthed unsuspected treasures in chinaware, and substituted them for the crockery of the restaurant. This done, he summoned to his room the maitre d’hotel and the wine chef, and chose the dinner with the most exquisite care. “Yeh Ling has really done himself proud,” said Tab admiring the table. The girl nodded. She had hoped that Yeh Ling would have chosen another room, but she had no real feeling of repugnance and besides she had been here since Trasmere’s death. “It is very thrilling to be dining alone with a young man,” she said, handing her wrap to the waiter, “and I can only hope the scandal of it doesn’t get into the newspapers!” “Shall we see Yeh Ling?” asked Tab, half-way through the dinner. She shook her head. “He never appears. He has only been in this room twice to my recollection. “It is our first appearance together in public,” said Tab solemnly. “I can count on our boys, but if any of those ‘Herald’ thugs hear and catch a glimpse of your expensive ring, there are going to be scare lines in that deplorable rag--the ‘Herald’ has no reticence on decency.” She laughed softly and looked at the “expensive ring” that glittered and sparkled in the light of the shaded lamp. “I asked Carver if he would come along after dinner,” said Tab, “but he is busy. He sent the most flowery and poetical messages to you--really Carver is a surprising person; there is a whole world of romance hidden behind that somewhat unpleasing exterior, if you will pardon the journalese.” But if Carver could not come, they had a visitor. There came a tap and the door opened slowly. “Great Moses!” said Tab springing up. “How the dickens did you know that we were here, Rex?” “I spotted you,” said Rex Lander reproachfully, “slinking in at the side door like two guilty souls! May I offer my congratulations, Miss Ardfern, and lay at your feet the fragments of a broken heart?” She laughed nervously at his jest. “No, I can’t stay,” said Rex, “I have a party and, moreover, I am entertaining a man with terrific ideas on architecture. Isn’t that queer! Now that I am no longer arc-ing, I have conceived a passion for that unhallowed profession! Even old Stott is becoming an admirable personage in my eyes. Have you forgiven me, Miss Ardfern?” “Oh yes,” she said quietly, “I have forgiven you a very long time ago.” Rex’s baby eyes were very kindly, his plump face was wrinkled in a smile of amiable reflection.