Nick was kindly confusing and shaming Miss Ingate with a short history and catechism of modern art, including such names as Vuillard, Bonnard, Picasso, Signac, and Matisse--all very eagerly poured out and all very unnerving for Miss Ingate, whose directory of painting was practically limited to the names of Raphael, Sir Joshua, Rembrandt, Rubens, Gainsborough, Turner, Leighton, Millais, Gustave Doré and Frank Dicksee. When, however, Nick referred to Monsieur Dauphin, Miss Ingate was as it were washed safely ashore and said with assurance: "Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh yes!" Tommy listened for a few moments, and then, leaning across the table and lighting a cigarette, she said in an intimate undertone to Audrey: "I hope you don't _mind_ coming to the ball to-night. We really didn't know------" She stopped. Her eyes, ferreting in Audrey's black, completed the communication. Unnerved for the tenth of a second, Audrey recovered and answered: "Oh, no! I shall like it very much." "You've been up against life!" murmured Tommy in a melting voice, gazing at her. "But how wonderful all experience is, isn't it. I once had a husband. We separated--at least, he separated. But I know the feel of being a wife." Audrey blushed deeply. She wanted to push away all that sympathy, and she was exceedingly alarmed by the revelation that Tommy was an initiate. The widow was the merest schoolgirl once more. But her blush had saved her from a chat in which she could not conceivably have held her own. "Excuse me being so clumsy," said Tommy contritely. "Another time." And she waved her cigarette to the waiter in demand for the bill. It was after the orchestra had finished a tango, and while Tommy was examining the bill, that the first violin and leader, in a magenta coat, approached the table, and with a bow offered his violin deferentially to Musa. Many heads turned to watch what would happen. But Musa only shrugged his shoulders and with an exquisite gesture of refusal signified that he had to leave. Whereupon the magenta coat gracefully retired, starting a Hungarian dance as he went. "Musa is supposed to be the greatest violinist in Paris--perhaps in the world," Tommy whispered casually to Audrey. "He used to play here, till Dauphin discovered him." Audrey, overcome by this prodigious blow, trembled at the contemplation of her blind stupidity. Beyond question, Musa now looked extremely important, vivid, masterful. She had been mistaking him for a nice, ornamental, useless boy. CHAPTER X FANCY DRESS