Aloof and apparently absorbed in her “Maryland chicken,” she wondered apprehensively if Bylant were in love with Elsie and decided he was not. His eyes were merely bright with interest as they discussed current tendencies and sophisticate personalities. He had darted a curious glance at herself once or twice in the parlor, and there had been a sudden glow in his eyes when they were introduced that made her stiffen her spine—that unfailing thermometer of her moods—but he had favored her with his notice no further. At this point it occurred to her that she was acting like a “cub.” In San Francisco, where she had been invited to dinners by girls who both liked and pitied her, eccentricities were condoned and they had expected no help at her hands. Tonight she was not only the guest of honor but the only other girl present, and—she made a wild dive among the shades of her ancestors—she was Miss Carteret of Carteret Manor. She may have accepted the rôle under protest but accepted it she had, and to behave like a sulky outlaw and cast a shade over the feast would no longer be tolerated. Elsie loved her and if she were disappointed would give no sign, but Gita imagined with a shudder the cold disapproval of Mrs. Pleyden if she sat like a sphinx at her table with a picked man on either side to entertain. She might as well begin now. She turned to Dr. Pelham and asked a tentative question, imbecile, she admitted, but she hardly could be expected to scintillate. “Are you glad to be home, to have seen the last of the West?” Pelham smiled slightly. “Oh, I rather liked Butte.” “Mining town, isn’t it?” “Rather.” He was in no mood for small talk, for his mind was full of his suddenly dazzling future, but he recognized that he was host, and if this hitherto agreeably silent guest were suddenly inspired to conversation, it was his duty to humor her. “A very noisy town. There are three shifts, you know, and groups of miners on the street corners at all hours of the day and night. The city never seems to sleep.” “Rather trying for those who want to sleep, I should think.” “Decidedly. But I was generally too tired at night to be kept awake even by the eternally bouncing trucks.” Gita turned to him squarely. She felt no repulsion toward individual men as long as they were impersonal, and Butte roused her curiosity. At the same moment Dr. Pelham was enabled to observe that she had the largest and fiercest black eyes he had ever seen and quite the most remarkable eyelashes. “Please tell me something about Butte,” she said eagerly. “I have lived in a good many places but never in a mining town. I always thought I’d like to go to Johannesburg, but I never heard of Butte until today.”