Athalie

She laughed and her eyes sparkled in the electric glow: "Are you,

Clive?"

"Yes, I am. I feel very devilish."

"So do I,--devilishly hungry."

"That's fine. Where shall we go?"

"The Cafe Arabesque?... The name sounds exciting."

"All right--" as his car drew up and the gold-capped porter opened the

door;--so he directed his chauffeur to drive them to the Cafe

Arabesque.

"If you don't like it," he added to Athalie, drawing the fur robe over

her knees and his, "we can go somewhere else."

"That's very nice of you. I don't have to suffer for my mistakes."

"Nobody ever ought to suffer for mistakes because nobody would ever

make mistakes on purpose," he said, laughing.

"Such a delightful philosophy! Please remind me of it when I'm in

agony over something I'm sorry I did."

"I'm afraid you'll have to remind me too," he said, still laughing.

"Is it a bargain?"

"Certainly."

The car stopped; he sprang out and aided her to the icy sidewalk.

"I don't think I ever saw you as pretty as you are to-night," he

whispered, slipping his arm under hers.

"Are you really growing more beautiful or do I merely think so?"

"I don't know," she said, happily; "I'll tell you a secret, shall I?"

He inclined his ear toward her, and she said in a laughing whisper:

"Clive, I feel beautiful to-night. Do you know how it feels to feel

beautiful?"

"Not personally," he admitted; and they separated still laughing like

two children, the focus of sympathetic, amused, or envious glances

from the brilliantly dressed throng clustering at the two cloak rooms.

She came to him presently where he was waiting, and, instinctively the

groups around the doors made a lane for the fair young girl who came

forward with the ghost of a smile on her lips as though entirely

unconscious of herself and of everybody except the man who moved out

to meet her.

"It's true," he murmured; "you are the most beautiful thing in this

beauty-ridden town."

"You'll spoil me, Clive."

"Is that possible?"

"I don't know. Don't try. There is a great deal in me that has never

been disturbed, never been brought out. Maybe much of it is evil," she

added lightly.

He turned; she met his eyes half seriously, half mockingly, and they

laughed. But what she had said so lightly in jest remained for a few

moments in his mind to occupy and slightly trouble it.