“Marjorie Langdon, her mother was an old school friend of mine.” “The name sounds familiar,” Duncan wrinkled his brow in puzzled thought. “Go down and meet her and then you’ll be certain about it,” put in his father. “Now, Flora, will you give me your attention....” Taking the hint Duncan strode to the door and vanished. As he reached the head of the staircase he heard his name called, and turning around, saw Janet standing before the elevator shaft. He retraced his steps and joined her, and they entered the lift together. “How do I look, Duncan?” she asked eagerly, turning slowly around for his inspection, as the automatic car shot downward. “The gown’s all right; the worst piece is in the middle,” he teased, glancing admiringly at her blond prettiness. She was dressed in exquisite taste, and her suddenly acquired grown-up manner sat quaintly upon her. Her slightly offended expression caused him to add hastily: “I like your hair arranged that way.” “I do think it’s becoming,” admitted Janet, twisting about in the lift so as to catch a better glimpse of herself in the tiny mirror. “Marjorie Langdon dressed it for me. Do you know, Duncan, I believe I’m going to like her.” He was saved from comment by the stopping of the lift, and Janet, her dignity flying to the four winds, scampered over to the drawing-room. Duncan followed her more slowly, and paused abruptly at the threshold of the room on perceiving a tall girl arranging roses in a vase, on one of the empire tables. Marjorie Langdon belonged to a type which appears to greater advantage in evening dress than in street costume, and with half-cynical, wholly critical eyes Duncan studied the girl, who, unaware of his presence, stood with her profile turned toward him. In her shimmering white gown, which suited her perfectly, and her color heightened by the excitement of her first official appearance in the Fordyce house, she was well worth a second look. “Lord! she needs a chaperon herself,” Duncan muttered under his breath, then stepped toward her as Marjorie looked in his direction. “I shall have to present myself, Miss Langdon--Duncan Fordyce,” he said pleasantly. “My sister Janet is too much excited to remember the formalities.” “I beg your pardon,” broke in Janet from the window seat. “I thought you two had met.” Successfully concealing her surprise under a friendly smile, Marjorie shook his hand cordially; until that moment she had not known of Duncan Fordyce’s existence. “When did you come to Washington?” she inquired. “Three days ago----” the arrival of his father and several other men interrupted his speech.