A symphony of cooings re-established peace and good will amongst the three young ladies; and these dulcet sounds blended easily with the mirth of the other masqueraders in the flat. In an access of joy, Mazie took Janet romping through the rooms. Robert used this occasion to whisper in Cornelia’s ear: "I satisfied Mazie that you weren’t staying home to meet Claude, by convincing her that you had an engagement with me," he said. "Have I?" She tried to hide her pleasure, immense as it was. "I hope so," he replied, using far less tact with her than he had with Mazie. "These entertainments don’t interest me at all. And, as I’m pledged to bring the girls home, it will be much more fun to spend the interval chatting with you than being bored at the ball." Cornelia’s face fell. With admirable self-control she said she meant to stay up for the girls, and would be glad of his company, though he might feel free to change his mind if he chose. Janet now detached herself from Mazie, put her arm through Robert’s, and begged him to hasten and join the merry-makers who were already filing out. This was her first ball, anticipation had cast a glamor over everything that was or was to be, and excitement had set all her nerves a tingle. There was a last concerted effort to dissuade Cornelia from remaining alone. It was unsuccessful. Then Janet drew Robert through the doorway and, as she joined the procession of celebrants, her heightened senses quite transfigured her. This fact was not lost on Cornelia or Mazie. "What a pretty pair!" said the latter mockingly. "Just watch them doing that snappy stuff with the eyes." Mazie had stayed behind for a moment to give Cornelia a parting shot. "You’d better change your mind, Corny. A swell chance there is of Robert coming back here now that Janet’s got him hooked. Come along, dearie, do. See here, I’ll give you a tip. You can rile a good many more people by going to the ball than you can by staying here." Cornelia shook her head disdainfully at this satire on her motives. Yet disdain was not her strongest emotion, Mazie’s shaft having struck too deep for an answer. *III* Towards midnight, the Outlaws’ Ball in the old Murray Hill Lyceum on 34th Street had almost hit its stride. Two bands, an Hawaiian Jazz and the Kips Bay Roughnecks, furnished the music, and what with the crash and blare of instruments, the dazzle of costumes, the clouds of confetti, and the swirl of dancers, masked and unmasked, the dense motley crowd appeared to be squeezing the last ounce of pleasure out of its mad adventure in search of "a good time."