Eleanor looked. Kate Waddington, her indirect gaze still on that corner table, saw the dark young man smile and bow effusively. She slipped a sidling glance at Eleanor Gray. Something curious, an intent look which seemed drawn to conceal a tumult within, had filmed itself over Eleanor's grey eyes. But she spoke steadily. "Why, yes. I have met them both. They used to do summer work on the ranch when they were in college. I believe that the darker one--Mr. Chester--is in Uncle Edward's law office now. I haven't seen either of them since I went abroad." "I should say that this Mr. Chester fancied you, from his expression." "I suppose that he fancies every girl that he sees--from his expression." Kate Waddington caught the shade of irritation, uncommon with Eleanor, and noted it in memory. Mrs. Masters, an eager little woman who grasped at everything about her like a child, broke in: "If you know them, and they're really frequenters of the place, it would be fun to ask them over. Sydney used to dine here a great deal when he was young and poor, and he has _such_ stories of the people he used to know then!" Eleanor hesitated. Kate looked again toward Bertram, who was talking rapidly across his soup to Mark Heath, and: "Do!" she murmured. In that instant, Bertram himself cast the die. This had been the debate across the soup: "I'm going over to speak to her," said Bertram. "I shouldn't butt in," said Mark. "It's a balanced party." "Oh, I shan't try to stay--coming along?" He did not wait to see whether or not Mark was following. Miss Gray greeted him more cordially, altogether more sweetly, than she had ever done in their meetings on the ranch, and passed him about the circle for introductions. Noticing, then, that Mark had not followed, Bertram turned and beckoned with impatience. Mark crossed the room in some embarrassment. "Is this your first visit to the Hotel Marseillaise?" asked Mrs. Masters. Mark hesitated; but Bertram laughed and beamed down on her from his brown eyes. "Only about my two hundred and first," he said. "Mr. Heath and I dine here every night we haven't the price to dine anywhere else." Masters, with that ready tact which he needed in order to live with Mrs. Masters, rushed into the breach. "And I should call it about my four hundred and first," he said. "It's back to the old scenes for the night. I haven't tasted real cabbage soup since the last time--it has been a canned imitation. For goodness' sake join us and tell us the news!" "Do!" said Miss Waddington with animation, and "Please," said those two escorts who do not figure in this story. Eleanor said nothing, but her expression was an invitation. "Sure!" responded Bertram.