He was reduced; baffled by her suavity. He sought in vain for a fitting return. He had the impulse to take advantage of her courtesy, however, and gratify some portion of his desire to be nearer her. She wore, suspended from the gold top-button of her "qua," a red silk tassel with a filigree network of silver threads, containing a gold heart-shaped scent bottle. He reached to it and tried to remove it from its place, covering this slight advance jocosely, with the remark: "Is that your heart you have there? It seems to be pure gold." She did not resent what might possibly have been considered a familiarity, but smiled when she saw that he could not remove the bottle from the meshes. "I’m afraid you won’t be able to get at it, that way." There was a touch of playful emphasis in her voice. Their hands met as she assisted him, showing him how to pull up the sliding ring and open the net. At that contact he became a little giddy. The blood surged to her cheeks. She took out the bottle and handed it to him. That moment was tense with feeling. Then she said, as he tried in vain to unstopper the little jar: "Can you open it, do you think?" He attempted futilely to open the little heart. "I’m afraid I can’t," he said disconsolately. "Won’t you help me?" "No, you must do it yourself. There is a way—see!" She took it from him and, concealing it in her hand, opened the top and reached it out for him to smell. He whiffed a penetrating perfume, disturbingly pungent, then she withdrew it from him and closed the heart. "May I take it?" he asked. She returned it now, saying, and her smile was more serious than before, "Learn to open it. There is a way." Granthope took the heart and tried to master its secret. The room had by this time filled up so that a further tête-à-tête was impossible. Miss Payson was now besieged by maskers and held court where she sat. Fernigan, the stout young man with the powdered face, dressed as a woman, was particularly offensive to Granthope, and especially so because it could not be denied that his antics and sallies were witty. Granthope arose therefore, and walked about the room looking for some one whom he might recognize. There was little likelihood of his succeeding had not his professional capacity given him a clue to follow. He passed from one group to another, bowing, gesticulating and joking, as all had now begun to do, keeping his eyes alertly on the hands of different members of the assembly. It was not long before he suspected Mrs. Page, and, after reassuring himself by closer inspection, he went up to her.