"Very well, Mrs. Petrovskey, if it would make you happier, we'll have it Dutch treat. But I'm not really quite as hard up as all that, you know." They had arrived at her apartment, and he was helping her out of the car with his usual impersonal courtesy. She flushed salmon pink beneath the touch of rouge. "Please don't be hurt," she begged. He smiled down at her. "No one could be offended with a Greuze," he replied softly. "And you look just like one at this moment. How's that for highbrow?" he finished, with a faint attempt at lightness. But the words sank deep, carrying balm, into Claire's wounded heart. When Mme. Petrovskey encountered her a few moments later as she entered the apartment, she could hardly believe her eyes. "The cold air has given you quite a flush," she said graciously for her. "Where have you been? Ito was worried because you didn't return for lunch." (Ito had worried! Claire shrugged with amusement, and yet how that remark might have hurt a few short hours ago!) "I met Dr. Elliott in the park, and he took me to the Gramatan Inn in Bronxville for lunch." Mme. Petrovskey raised dumbfounded brows. Then her expression changed suddenly. The small eyes became non-committal slits. She smiled suavely. "Dr. Elliott? How nice! Do you like him?" She watched Claire narrowly as she spoke. "Yes, very much," said the girl naïvely. "I promised to go out to the theater with him next week." "That's right. You might as well amuse yourself," said her mother-in-law carelessly, "seeing Alexis is taken care of. By the way, has Mrs. Schuyler a husband?" Claire turned away to hide her smitten face. "No, I believe she's a widow." Her voice was harsh. "Ah!" Mme. Petrovskey drew a long, hissing breath. "She seems to be very well off, doesn't she?" she persisted. "Very," said Claire shortly. A vision of Anne, jeweled and sumptuous in the Kolinsky evening wrap rose before her aching eyes. "I think if you don't mind. I'll go to my room and lie down a little while." She turned and walked down the long hall. Mme. Petrovskey's voice followed her almost caressingly. "Of course not, dear child. That's right, take care of yourself. You're looking so much better already. I think Dr. Elliott (is that the young man's name?) is quite a treasure. We must cultivate him, my dear." CHAPTER XIV RAPTURE Mac Dougal Alley on a black, starless night was quite Hogarthian, decided the Marchese, as he pressed Ellen's doorbell, the ultra-chic in slums! He encountered the fathomless black eyes of the Chinese girl who admitted him, with a smile. What a white, round face, like an enigmatic moon. Did it conceal a personality as void as that lifeless planet? The gorgeous little figure preceded him into the house. He looked about him with amusement.