"I am very glad to see you," he remarked lamely as he let it fall--so lamely that he bit his lip at the remembrance. "You are looking well," he added. "Of course--a woman always looks well at night," she answered lightly. "And you," she laughed again, her kindly, unconscious laugh; "you are looking--large." He did not smile. "I have no doubt of it," he responded, and was silent. Juliet Galt broke in with an affectionate protest. "Eugie is as great a tease as ever," she said. "She will be the death of my baby yet. I tell her to choose one of her own size, but she never does. She always plagues those smaller than herself--or larger." But Eugenia had turned away to greet a stranger, and in a moment Nicholas drew back into a windowed embrasure where the lights were dim. Suddenly a voice broke upon his ear addressing Juliet Galt--the vibrant tones of Dudley Webb. He had come in late and was standing in mock helplessness before Juliet and Carrie, his plump white hand vacillating between the two. "I am at a loss!" he exclaimed with an appealing shrug of his shoulders. "Which is the debutante?" Juliet laughed, her cheeks mantling with a pleased blush. "You're a sad flatterer, Dudley! Isn't he, Eugie?" Eugenia turned with a questioning glance. "Oh, it's just his way," she returned good-humouredly. "A kindly Providence has decreed that he should cover over my deficiencies." Dudley protested affably, and ended by giving a hand to each. In the crowded rooms he had become at once the picturesque and popular figure. His magnetism was immediately felt, and men and women surrounded him in small circles, while his pleasant words ran on smoothly, accompanied by the ring of his infectious laugh. The luminous pallor of his clear-cut, yet fleshy face, was accentuated by the sweep of his dark hair that clung closely to his forehead. He seemed to have brought with him into the heated rooms the spirit of humour and the zest of life. From the deep embrasure Nicholas Burr watched curiously the flutter of women's skirts and the flicker of candle light on shining heads. Eugenia moved easily from group to group, the straight fall of her flaxen gown giving her an added height, the dark coil of hair on the nape of her long neck seeming to rise above the shoulders of other women. She was never silent--for one and all she had some ready words, and her manner was cordial, almost affectionate. It was as if she were in the midst of a great family party, held together by the ties of blood.