At the question a little frown sketched itself on her clear brow. "In general, yes," she said. "But they've got that Lewis boy out in the bar filling him up on champagne." "That's a pity." "It's a burning shame!" said she, "And I'd like to shake young Keith. He's dangled after the Morrell woman from start to finish in a manner scandalous to behold." Sherwood laughed. "The 'Morrell woman' will do his education good," he remarked. "Well, she isn't doing that poor little Mrs. Keith's education any good," returned Mrs. Sherwood rather tartly. Sherwood surveyed Nan and Ben Sansome leisurely. "I must say she doesn't look crushed," he said, after a moment. "Do you expect her to weep violently?" asked Mrs. Sherwood. He accepted good naturedly the customary feminine scorn for the customary masculine obtuseness. "Well, I don't know that we can help it," said he, philosophically. Mrs. Sherwood appeared to come to a sudden resolution. She arose. "You go get that Lewis boy away from the bar," she commanded. Deliberately she shook and arranged her full skirts. The man with whom she had this dance, and who had been waiting dutifully for the conference to close, darted forward. She shook her head at him smilingly. "I'm going to let you off," she told him. "You won't mind. I have something extra special to do." She swept quite alone across the middle of the ballroom, serene, self-possessed; and walked directly toward Keith and Mrs. Morrell, who were seated together at the other end. A perceptible pause seemed to descend. The music kept on playing, couples kept on dancing, but, nevertheless, suddenly the air was charged with attention. Sherwood looked after her with mingled astonishment and fond pride. "A frontal attack, egad!" said he to himself. Keith and Mrs. Morrell pretended, as long as they decently could, not to see her. She swam leisurely toward them. Finally Keith arose hastily; Mrs. Morrell stared straight ahead. "Young man," accused Mrs. Sherwood, with a faint amusement in her rich, low voice, "do you know that this is our dance?" Keith excused his apparent lapse volubly, telling several times over that his program had been destroyed, that he was abject when he thought of the light this put him in. "It is only when angels like yourself condescend to reach me a helping hand that I have even a chance to right myself," he added. He thought this rather a good touch. Mrs. Sherwood stood before him easily, in perfect repose of manner, the half smile still sketching her lips. She said just nothing at all in response to his glib excuses; but when he had quite finished she laid her hand in his arm. Mrs. Morrell, her colour high, continued to stare straight ahead, immobile except for the tapping of one foot. To Keith's request to be excused she vouchsafed a stiff half nod, partly in his direction.