Cecille did go, once. So far as her escort was concerned she found that Felicity had spoken the truth. He was innocuous. He was, indeed, quite entirely unaware of her presence most of the evening. That did not displease her. She found him little stupider than a swain of the same age might have been in her own home town, even though his name did appear in heavy block type in the Social Register. But she went only once. She made a mistake. She had that day helped to costume a sister of one of the men. She happened now to mention that sister's prettiness. The man looked her in the eye, coldly, for a prolonged moment. "Let's leave my sister out of it," he said at length deliberately. And Cecille's cheeks were still pale from his tone when they arrived back at the apartment. "That was a bad crack you made," Felicity told her then. "I--I didn't know." "They don't like to discuss their own womenfolks with girls like us." "Oh!" The exclamation was little more than a whisper. "But no harm done," airily. "He has to depend on the old man for his bank-roll. I just thought I'd tip you off." She didn't go again. She stopped wanting to go anywhere, even to the movies, for quite a while. And then, just at eleven one night, while Felicity was before the mirror preparing to go to work and wondering where Cecille could be, the latter came quietly in. Felicity hardly marked her entrance until she dropped suddenly into a chair and began to laugh. It was the laugh which made Felicity turn so sharply. She had had experience with that shrill note in women's voices and knew what it could mean. Such breakdowns were ugly to handle. She flung sharply round. "What's tickling you?" she barked harshly. "Shoot! Let's have it. Cut that, now!" It stayed the slighter girl's hysteria. "I've been--I've been to a dance," she gurgled. Felicity gave her no foolish respite. "Well, I don't get it," she rapped on. "Maybe I'm English. Where's the joke?" "A--a dance over at the Central Palace, given for Worthy Working Girls--" "That's funnier! But go ahead. Snap into it! Don't let it drag--don't let it drag--" It seemed a potent cure. "I went because I saw in the paper that Mrs. Schuyler Driggs was going to be among the patronesses to receive." The hysterical giggle was gone from Cecille's voice. She shut tight her teeth and raised her chin. Felicity felt that it was safe now to remain silent. And she was right, partly right. She only failed to realize that Cecille was all too calm. "I'm sorry, Felicity," the latter apologized meekly. "But I couldn't help it. I thought I'd laugh and cry and scream, right on the street, before I could get here. But I held on. Shall I finish?" "Mrs. Schuyler Driggs has just made her entrance--"