"But didn't they bring any letters?" asked Ruyler. "They are ladies and

one letter would have done the business. That poor girl is having the

deuce of a time."

"D.V.," who knew "everybody" in California, and all their secrets, shook

his head. "'Fraid not. The French maid told the floor valet that although

the father was American--from New England somewheres--and the girl born

in California, accidentally as it were, she had lived in France all her

life--she's just eighteen--never crossed the ocean before. Can you beat

it? Until last month, and then they came from Hong Kong--taking a trip

round the world in good old style. The madame, who scarcely opens her

month, did condescend to tell me that she had admired California very

much when she was here before, and intended to travel all over the state.

Perhaps I met her in that far off long ago, for I was managing a hotel in

San Francisco about that time, and her face haunts me somehow--although

when features get all swallowed up by fat like that you can't locate

them. The girl, too, reminds me of some one, but of course she was in

arms when she left and as I ain't much on cathedrals I never went to

Rouen. Of course it's the old trick, bringing a pretty girl to a

fashionable watering place to marry her off, but these folks are not

poor. Not what we'd call rich, perhaps, but good and solid. I don't fall

for the old lady; she's a cool proposition or I miss my guess, but the

girl's all right. I've seen too many girls in this Mecca for adventurous

females and never made a mistake yet. I wish some of our grand dames

would extend the glad hand. But I'm afraid they won't. Terrible

exclusive, this bunch."

Ruyler scowled and walked back to the ballroom. The exclusiveness of this

young society on the wrong side of the continent sometimes made him

homesick and sometimes made him sick. He saw little chance for this poor

girl to enjoy the rights of her radiant youth if her mother had not taken

the precaution to bring letters. France was full of Californians. Many

lived there. Surely she must have met some one she could have made use

of. It was tragic to watch a pathetic young thing staring at two or three

hundred young men and maidens disporting themselves with the natural

hilarity of youth, and but few of them too ill-natured to welcome a young

and lovely stranger if properly introduced.

He experienced a desperate impulse to go up to the mother and offer

her the hospitality of the evening, ask her to regard him as her host.

But Madame Delano had a frozen eye, and no doubt orthodox French ideas

on the subject of young girls. A moment later his eye fell on Mrs.

Ford Thornton.




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