"Oh, yes, I was there!" she replied. "And, of course, I saw you; you were the star performer. At tea afterward I saw you again, surrounded by admirers." She laughed at his befuddlement. "But it's against all the rules to try to unmask me! Of course, I know you, but maybe you will never know me!" "I don't believe you are cruel enough to prolong my agony forever! I can't stand this much longer!" "Perhaps some day," she answered quietly and meeting his eager gaze steadily, "we shall meet just as the people of the world meet, and then maybe you won't like me at all!" "After this the world will never be the same planet again. Hereafter my business will be to follow you----" She broke in laughingly, "even to the Little Dipper?" "Even to the farthest star!" he answered. After coffee had been served in the drawing-room, Hood, again dominating the company (much to Deering's disgust), suggested music. Pierrette contributed a flashing, golden Chopin waltz and Pantaloon Schubert's "Serenade," which he played atrociously, whereupon Hood announced that he would sing a Scotch ballad, which he proceeded to do surprisingly well. The evening could not last forever, and Deering chafed at his inability to detach Pierrette from the piano; but she was most provokingly submissive to Hood's demand that the music continue. Deering had protested that he didn't sing; he hated himself for not singing! He fidgeted awhile; then, finding the others fully preoccupied with their musical experiments, quietly left the drawing-room. It had occurred to him that Constance, who had disappeared when they left the table, might be seeking a chance to speak to him and he strolled through the library (a large room with books crowding to the ceiling) to a glass door opening into a conservatory, which was dark save for the light from the library. He was about to turn away when an outer door opened furtively and Cassowary stepped in from the grounds. The chauffeur glanced about nervously as though anxious to avoid detection. As Deering watched him a shadow darted by, and his sister--unmistakably Constance in the dark gown with its white collar and cuffs that she had worn at dinner--moved swiftly toward the chauffeur. She gave him both hands; he kissed her eagerly; then they began talking earnestly. For several minutes Deering heard the blurred murmur of rapid question and reply; then, evidently disturbed by an outburst of merriment from the drawing-room, the two parted with another hand-clasp and kiss, and Cassowary darted through the outer door. Constance waited a moment, as though to compose herself, and then began retracing her steps down the conservatory aisle. As she passed his hiding-place Deering stepped out and seized her arm. "So this is what's in the wind, is it?" he demanded roughly. "I suppose you don't know that that man's a bad lot, a worthless fellow Hood picked up in the hope of reforming him! For all I know he may be the chauffeur he pretends to be!"