"It’s very mixed, of course," Miss Hamersley was saying, as they glided over the perfect floor. "That’s always the way with a big affair like this. If there’s any one you want to meet just make Jock introduce you. He knows everybody. Yes, surely, Peter. Thanks, very much, Mr. Lawrence." Before the latter could collect his wits, she was whirled away on the arm of the young fellow who had cut in; and Barry backed up against the wall, diverted by the kaleidoscopic scene, his eyes roving about the room in search of possible acquaintances. For a time he saw no one he knew. There were plenty of charming faces, beauties of every type, and not a few of whom glanced curiously in his direction. There were many girls whom he would have liked immensely to meet twenty-four hours before; but, somehow, now that he had seen Shirley Rives, he ceased to be enthusiastic over others. The thought of her, leaping back into his mind after a brief distraction, brought a faint pucker into Barry’s forehead. Presently, still thoughtful, he moved slowly from his place, drifting toward the end of the room where the line of ladies stood to receive the belated guests who still dribbled in at intervals. Presently his eyes fell upon a group at some distance from him, and he gave a great start. The group consisted of a girl surrounded by five or six men. Her back was squarely toward Lawrence, but there was something about her slim, graceful figure, tiny but exquisitely proportioned, and the tilt of her head, with its wonderful crown of coppery hair, which was so like Shirley Rives that it almost hurt. She wore a close-fitting gown of shimmering golden tissue, in which sequins gleamed and winked with every movement. A gorgeous string of pearls was wound twice about her neck. On her arms were several costly bracelets. Apparently she had only just arrived. It would seem, also, that she was having some difficulty in choosing a partner from the number of men hovering about her. Barry, watching her with unconscious curiosity, could see her laugh and shake her head several times. Once, when a youth stepped forward with lifted arms, as if the matter were settled, she slipped away from him, holding up the big spray of orchids she carried with a gesture of admonition. At length, with a sudden display of dignity, she lifted her head, and nodded to a tall, handsome fellow who stood, apparently unmoved, on the outer edge of the circle. As he came swiftly forward, the others fell back with shrugs and disappointed looks. The girl caught up her skirts, and placed one tiny hand upon her partner’s shoulder; and Lawrence, who had been watching the little comedy with more interest than he realized, decided that in a moment she would turn, and he would see her face.