"There he is over there," remarked Grismer, indicating a regulation Mephistopheles, wearing a blood-red jerkin laced with a wealth of superfluous points. "Wait; I’ll borrow a lace of him." The devil was polite and had no objection to being despoiled; and Grismer came back with a chamois thong and mended her sandal for her while she sat in their box and watched the tumult surging below. He chatted gaily with her for a while, leaning there on the box’s edge beside her, but Stephanie had become smilingly inattentive and preoccupied, and he watched her in silence, now, curiously, a little perplexed by her preoccupation. For it was most unusual for her to betray inattention when with him. It was not like her. He could not remember her ever being visibly uninterested in him—ever displaying preoccupation or indifference when in his company. However, the excitement of seeing her brother again so unexpectedly accounted for it no doubt. The excitement and pleasure of seeing her—_brother_! ... A slight consciousness of the fact that there was no actual kinship between this girl and Cleland passed through his mind without disturbing his tranquillity. He merely happened to think of it.... He happened to recollect it; that was all. "Stephanie?" "Yes." "Shall we sit out this dance? Your sandal string will hold." "I don’t know," she said. "Who is that dancing with Helen? Over there to the left——" "I see her. I don’t know—oh, yes—it’s Phil Grayson." "Is it? I wonder where Jim went with that woman! ... I’m horribly thirsty, Oswald." "Shall we have some supper?" "Where is it? Oh, down there! What a stuffy place! It’s too awful. Couldn’t you get something here?" He managed to bribe one perspiring and distracted waiter, and after a long while he brought a tray towering with salads, ices and bottles. Helen and Philip Grayson came back and the former immediately revealed a healthy appetite. "Don’t you want anything to eat, Steve?" she inquired. "This shrimp salad isn’t bad." "I’m not hungry." "You seem to be thirsty," remarked Helen, looking at the girl’s flushed face and her half-filled wine glass. "Where is Jim?" "Dancing." "With whom?" "Some girl of sorts whom he picked up," said Stephanie; and the pink flush in her face deepened angrily. "Was she worth it?" inquired Helen, frankly amused. Stephanie’s cheeks cooled; she replied carelessly: "She had button eyes and a snub nose and her attire was transparent—if that interests you." She rested her elbow on the edge of the box, supporting her chin on her cupped palm. They were dancing again. Grayson came and took out Helen; a number of men arrived clamouring for Stephanie. She finally went out with Verne, but not liking the way he held her left him planted and returned to the box where a number of hilarious young men had gathered. Harry Belter said: "What’s the trouble, Steve? I never saw you glum before in all my life!"