She looked from her flowers to her stained dress, shaking her head slowly as though words were inadequate to express the direness of the catastrophe. The Colonel was afraid she was going to cry, but she showed no symptom of tears. She seemed a strayed member of the class which is taught to control its lachrymal glands in public and keep its violent emotions out of sight. But her face showed a distress that was to him extremely pitiful. “Cheer up,” he said. “As far as the dancing goes the evening’s only half over. And partners--you don’t want to dance with these country bumpkins.” He lowered his voice at the words, which were indeed rank heresy in the democratic purlieus of Foleys, and made a surreptitious gesture which swept the room. “Who else is there?” said the girl, who did not show any tendency to combat his low opinion of Foleys’ _jeunesse dorée_. “And when you come to a party you expect to dance.” “I’ll get something better for you than that,” said the Colonel, rising. “Wait here for a minute or two. I won’t be gone long and I’ll bring you back somebody worth having for a partner.” She smiled faintly at him, and he turned, passed through the circling whirl of dancers, and stepped out on the balcony again. [Illustration: SHE SMILED FAINTLY AT HIM] By an adjacent window he saw two masculine figures and smelt the pungent odor of the superior tobacco with which they were beguiling the passing hour. Rion Gracey’s face, gilded by the light of the window, was toward him. The well-shaped back which the other presented to his gaze he recognized as that of Jerry Barclay. He bore down upon them, clapping one hand upon Barclay’s shoulder, with the words, “Look here, you fellows, I want partners for a girl in there.” Gracey frowned and said demurringly, “Now, Jim, what’s the use of coming down on me? Don’t you know I’m no dancing man?” The other answered, “Let’s see the girl first. Where is she?”--looking in through the window--“the one over there in pink? Oh, we don’t deserve that. What’s the matter with your being the Good Samaritan and dancing with her yourself?” “It’s not the one in pink, and you’ve got to come. The poor little thing hasn’t had but two partners this evening and it’s most broken her heart. Here, come along! I’m going to see that she has some fun before this metropolitan orgy ends.” Gracey threw away his cigar with a suppressed groan of acquiescence. The other man, shaking his coat into shape, said, “Lead on. Beauty in distress always appeals to me. Having rounded us up you may as well lose no time in taking us to the sacrifice.”