The woman nearest her was a trifle the elder of the two, a very attractive-looking woman, tastefully gowned and carefully groomed.

The younger, who had been the first speaker, was, perhaps, the more dashing.

Certainly she appeared to be the more sophisticated.

And as Constance caught her eye she involuntarily thought of the old proverb, "Never trust a man who doesn't look you in the eye or a woman who does." Two men sauntered down the long corridor, on the way from a visit to the bar.

As they caught sight of the two ladies, there was a smile of recognition, an exchange of remarks between each pair, and the men hurried in the direction of the corner.
They greeted the two ladies in low, bantering, familiar terms--"Mr.
Smith," "Mrs.Jones," "Mr.White" and "Mrs.Brown." "You got my card!" asked one of the men of the woman nearest Constance.
"Sorry we're late, but a business friend ran into us as we were coming in and I had to shunt him off in the other direction." He nodded toward the opposite end of the corridor with a laugh.
"You've been bad boys," pouted the other woman, "but we forgive you--this time." "Perhaps we may hope to be reinstated after a little--er--tea--and a dance ?" suggested the other man.
The four were all moving in the direction of the dining-room and the gay music.
They had disappeared in the crush about the door before Constance noticed that the woman who had been sitting nearest her had dropped an envelope.