She advanced tapping her heels, smoothing her gloves, and looking every shirt-front full in the face. Her forehead gathered in a soft little frown; he whom she sought was not in sight. She got a glimpse of Mrs. Pence and Medora Giles seated side by side in a far corner, and of Little O'Grady hovering near, with a covetous eye upon her aunt's profile; and she took the remaining space in a quick little walk that was almost a run. "Adrian Bond?" she asked. "Tell me; has anybody seen or heard anything of Adrian Bond?" "Well, Clytie child!" exclaimed her aunt, looking her over; "what's all this?" Clytie passed her hand down the side of her thick fawn-coloured skirt and readjusted her toque. "These things were in that box you sent me day before yesterday." "That box from London?" "That box from London. I thought they were never coming. I wrote; I cabled; I implored friends to go to Regent Street every single day till they should be done. And here they are, finally--a month late; but I'm wearing them, all the same." "Well, they're worth waiting for," said Medora. "I suppose they are just about the last word." "Just about," replied Clytie complacently. "Meanwhile, where is Adrian Bond?" "Here he comes now," said Medora. Clytie turned. She beheld the mediaeval greens and violets. "Why, Adrian," she protested; "you told me you were coming disguised as a gentleman." "I thought better of it," said Bond. "But," she proceeded, "I--I----" She spun round on one heel. "This is all for you. I thought that if you were coming disguised as a gentleman, it would be nice for me to come disguised as a lady. No use," she said regretfully. "Everybody knew me in a minute," she added. Bond laughed. "I thought you weren't coming at all." "But you got my note?" "Not a word." "Why, I wrote you how we were having a ball of our own, and how I couldn't come to this one till I had started off that one." "What kind of a ball?" asked Mrs. Pence. "One given by our Telephone Girls. I led the grand march with a lovely young bartender. I struck him all in a heap--can you wonder?--and he told me just what he thought of me. There wasn't much time to lead up to it. He was very direct; he took a short cut. Oh, I love the _people_! Why are the men in our set so shy----!" "What did he say?" asked Bond sharply. "Oh, never mind! It was one of those cannon-ball compliments that leave you stunned and breathless, but willing to be stunned again. What do you think of my togs?" she asked, generally.