“I hardly know,” returned the younger and taller girl, adding, with a frank laugh: “I was wondering whether it would be too sinfully extravagant to blow myself to a gilt-edged meal all alone. However, I believe I had about succumbed to temptation; I have a manager to see this afternoon, and I really think I should fortify myself.” “Lunch with me,” suggested Kitty Legaye. “I hate my own society, and I am all alone.” “For a wonder!” laughed the other. “Yes, I’d love to, if you’ll let it be Dutch. I’ve been up and down a thousand pairs of stairs this morning, and I’m nearly dead.” They went together into one of the most comfortable dining rooms in the city. They chose a little table so placed that an electric fan, artificially hidden behind flowering plants, swept it with a very fair imitation of aromatic summer winds. Miss Legaye, who always knew exactly what she wanted, waved aside the menu proffered by the waiter and rapidly ordered: “Brook trout in aspic for two. I’ll tell you the rest later.” Then she tossed off her fur neckpiece and turned to the other girl. “I never asked you if you liked trout!” she exclaimed, in a sweet, rather high voice which her admirers called “larklike.” “Now, that’s so like me! Do you?” “Very much,” said her companion, smiling. “I don’t often get it, though. You are looking awfully well, Miss Legaye!” “I am always well,” replied Kitty Legaye. She was an exceedingly pretty woman, already in her early thirties, but even by daylight she did not look more than twenty-five. On the stage, with the glamour of rouge and footlights to enhance her naturally youthful appearance, she passed easily for a girl in her teens. Very small, very dainty, with the clear, ivory-white skin which keeps its freshness so well, big dark eyes, brown curls, and a very red, tiny, full mouth, she still made an enchanting ingénue and captivated every one who saw her. To-day she was entirely charming in one of the innocently sophisticated frocks she particularly loved to wear—a creation of black and white, most daring in effect, though demurely simple in cut. Always pale by nature, she was doubly so now from fatigue and heat, yet she still looked young and lovely, and her smile had the irresistible and infectious quality of a child’s. If at times her eye grew a bit cynical or her pretty mouth a trifle hard, such slips in self-control occurred seldom. As a rule she kept a rigid guard upon herself and her expressions, not only because an obviously ugly mood or reflection made her look older, but because, if permitted to become a habit, it would be perilously and permanently aging.