She ran up breathlessly, anxious and yet afraid, flinging open the door, gazing blankly at the floor, then ransacking rapidly the table, the bureau-tops, the mantelpiece. Nothing had come--he had not written! She sat down furiously. She could not comprehend! On the table a great bouquet of orchids, with "Pouffé" in golden letters on the purple ribbon, was waiting. She saw it heedlessly. He had not written! Why? She could not understand--could find no explanation. How could any one be so thoughtless, so cruel? "I will telephone him myself!" she thought angrily, springing up. She went to the door precipitately, before she could control herself. Then she stopped, wringing her hands, shaking her head. Perhaps he had come in person. She rang for Josephus. Had any one called? Had there been a message? None. Perhaps he had telephoned, and Winona had made a note of it. She went hastily to the pad where such notes were jotted down. But the page, to her dismay, was blank. She sat down quietly, folding her arms across her breast, gazing out of the window. All at once she bounded up, went rapidly down the hall, and entered Ida Summers' room. "Come on. You're lunching with me. No excuses!" "Where? With whom?" "Doesn't matter--come! I'll tell you later!" "Good heavens! what's the matter, Do?" "Nothing! I'm a fool--I don't know. Only let's get out!" Yes, she was a fool! The explanation was obvious! While she had been soaring with her dreams, he had gone quietly about his day. What had set her in a whirl had meant nothing to him--nothing at all! And for the moment, forgetting what had happened, forgetting how he had at the last returned, seeking admittance, she said to herself bitterly that she must have gone mad to imagine for an instant that there had been anything more than a moment's amusement between Judge Massingale and a crazy little fool living in the third floor front of a cheap boarding-house. "Now to do as I please," she said recklessly. "We'll see if I'm of so little consequence. Sassoon and Blood shall pay for this!" Ida Summers, overwhelmed at the prospect of meeting Alfred Edward Sassoon, was excitedly clamoring: "But, Do, heavens! Give me a pointer; I'll never be able to say a word to a swell like that! What do you talk about?" "Anything!" said Doré savagely. "What does he care what you talk about! Or any of them! Look him in the eyes, smile, flirt! Did you ever flirt with a butcher's boy?" "Heavens! Dodo!" "Well, I did! They're all the same!" "What's happened?" Doré shrugged her shoulders. But by the time they had drawn up in front of Tenafly's she had regained her calm in a dangerous coldness bent on mischief. Sassoon came up softly, looking questions at this unexpected presentation of a third. "I thought you would be more comfortable in public this way, instead of tête-à-tête," said Doré briefly, making the introduction. "You see how considerate I am!"