His presence seemed to make dancing a misdemeanor, and the rich house, with its services and appurtenances, an organized crime.

But if his personality was the storm-point of the scene, charged with potential lightning, Marion Vincent's was the still small voice, without threat or bitterness, which every now and then spoke to a quick imagination like Diana's its message from a world of poverty and pain.

And sometimes Diana had been startled by the perception that the message seemed to be specially for her.

Miss Vincent's eyes followed her; whenever Diana passed near her, she smiled--she admired.

But always, as it seemed to Diana, with a meaning behind the smile.