"Why insist so strongly on a _quadrille d'honneur_?" he was asking her. "Wasn't a march good enough?" "We always look for a quadrille at one of the best functions--at home." "But why draw lines? You don't object if people meet for pleasure on terms free and equal?" "Oh, of course if you have no celebrities here--no great figures--" "Not one--not till you came. We are all plain people here. If any of us forget our plainness there are plenty who are glad enough to remind us of it." "Are you plain, too?" "The plainest of the lot." "You don't seem so; you look awfully ornamental, with that ribbon and all." The "all" meant the wave in his hair, the lustre of his eyes, the upward flaunt of his mustache which hid in no degree the white, firm evenness of his teeth, the freshness of a second gardenia--even the sheen of his shapely shoes. "The ribbon--you like it? Sorry I'm wearing only one. How would you have liked a second running the opposite way? Or a third pinned on behind?" "Oh, you!--How about all these other young men; are they anybody?" "What other young men?" "The ones with these criss-cross red ribbons." "Oh! Well, some few of them have what you might call position, and some are working for it, and some are not thinking anything about it; and some, after having served their purpose, will be dropped soon enough, I promise you." "And you yourself--are you in, or out, or not thinking about it, or-" "I?" returned Truesdale, carelessly. "I'm just a passer-by; I'm on my way to Japan." "Oh no; not Japan!" said the girl, quickly. "Japan, I assure you," he smiled. She caught herself. "To escape my uncle, then?" "Why that, in Heaven's name?" "You have offended him." "Dear me! How?" "By what you said at the house the other night. About the costumes, you know." "Nonsense. How could that have reached him?" "Those things do get around. Do you know what he's going to do? He's going to cut your comb. My aunt--she cried like anything." To Truesdale the girl's tone seemed preposterously confidential. "You were in the wrong," she seemed to imply; "but I am on your side for all that." "Ouf!" said Truesdale; "this comes of trenching on Biblical ground. I'll never quote scripture again." Truesdale had gone to the Belden house in pursuance of the invitation extended at his mother's own tea-table. Eliza Marshall had made a faint effort to dissuade him; despite Mrs. Belden's presence at her own function, his going seemed, in one way or another, too much like an excursion into the enemy's country. But the occasion was a fancy-dress ball, and Truesdale declared himself much too curious to remain away. "I must go," he said, and at once took steps to equip himself for this voyage of discovery.