In the gilded balcony opposite, the orchestra had now ceased playing; the whirl and noise of the dancers filled the immense momentary quiet. Then soft chimes from the great clock sounded midnight amid cries of, "Unmask! masks off, everybody!" The Harlequin turned and drawing the black vizard from his face, bent low and saluted her hand; and she, responding gaily with a curtsey, looked up into the features of an utter stranger. She stood silent a moment, the surprised smile stamped on her lips; then, in her turn, she slipped the mask from her eyes. "_Voila!_" she cried. "_C'est moi!_" After a moment he said, half to himself; "I knew well enough that you must be unusual. But I hadn't any idea--any--idea----" "Then--you are _not_ disappointed in me, monsieur?" "My only regret is that I had my hour, and wasted it. Those hours never sound twice for wandering harlequins." "Poor Harlequin!" she said saucily--"I'm sorry, but even _your_ magic can't recall a vanished hour! Poor, poor Harlequin! You were too generous to me!" "And now you are going to forget me," he said. "That is to be my reward." "Why--I don't think--I don't expect to forget you. I suppose I am likely to know you some day.... _Who_ are you, please? Somebody very grand in New York?" "My name is Quarren." There was a silence; she glanced down at the ball-room floor through the lattice screen, then slowly turned around to look at him again. "Have you ever heard of me?" he asked, smiling. "Yes." "Are you disappointed?" "Y-es. Pleasantly.... I supposed you to be--different." He laughed: "Has the world been knocking me very dreadfully to you, Mrs. Leeds?" "No.... One's impressions form without any reason--and vaguely--from--nothing in particular.--I thought you were a very different sort of man.--I am glad you are not." "That is charming of you." "It's honest. I had no desire to meet the type of man I supposed you to be. Am I too frank?" "No, indeed," he said, laughing, "but I'm horribly afraid that I really am the kind of man you imagined me." "You are not." "How do you know?" "No," she said, shaking her pretty head, "you can't be." He said, quoting her own words amiably: "I'm merely one of the necessary incidents of any social environment--like flowers and champagne----" "Mr. Quarren!" In her distress she laid an impulsive hand on his sleeve; he lifted it, laid it across the back of his own hand, and bowing, saluted it lightly, gaily. "I am not offended," he said; "--I am what you supposed me." "Please don't say it! You are not. I didn't know you; I was--prejudiced----" "You'll find me out sooner or later," he said laughing, "so I might as well admit that your cap fitted me." "It doesn't fit!" she retorted; "I was a perfect fool to say that!" "As long as you like me," he returned, "does it make any difference what I am?" "Of course it does! I'm not likely to find a man agreeable unless he's worth noticing." "Am I?"