The door-bell rang. Viola had been covertly lis-tening for it all the time. Soon a very beautiful young man came with a curious dancing step into the room. Harold Lind always gave the effect of dancing when he walked. He always, moreover, gave the effect of extreme youth and of the utmost joy and mirth in life itself. He regarded everything and everybody with a smile as of humorous appre-ciation, and yet the appreciation was so good-natured that it offended nobody.
"Look at me -- I am absurd and happy; look at yourself, also absurd and happy; look at every-body else likewise; look at life -- a jest so delicious that it is quite worth one's while dying to be made acquainted with it." That is what Harold Lind seemed to say. Viola Longstreet became even more youthful under his gaze; even Jane Carew regretted that she had not worn her amethyst comb and be-gan to doubt its unsuitability. Viola very soon called the young man's attention to Jane's ame-thysts, and Jane always wondered why she did not then mention the comb. She removed a brooch and a bracelet for him to inspect.
"They are really wonderful," he declared. "Ihave never seen greater depth of color in amethysts.""Mr. Lind is an authority on jewels," declared Viola. The young man shot a curious glance at her, which Jane remembered long afterward. It was one of those glances which are as keystones to situations.
Harold looked at the purple stones with the ex-pression of a child with a toy. There was much of the child in the young man's whole appearance, but of a mischievous and beautiful child, of whom his mother might observe, with adoration and ill-concealed boastfulness, "I can never tell what that child will do next!"Harold returned the bracelet and brooch to Jane, and smiled at her as if amethysts were a lovely purple joke between her and himself, uniting them by a peculiar bond of fine understanding. "Exqui-site, Miss Carew," he said. Then he looked at Viola.
"Those corals suit you wonderfully, Mrs. Long-street," he observed, "but amethysts would also suit you.""Not with this gown," replied Viola, rather piti-fully. There was something in the young man's gaze and tone which she did not understand, but which she vaguely quivered before.
Harold certainly thought the corals were too young for Viola. Jane understood, and felt an unworthy triumph. Harold, who was young enough in actual years to be Viola's son, and was younger still by reason of his disposition, was amused by the sight of her in corals, although he did not intend to be-tray his amusement. He considered Viola in corals as too rude a jest to share with her. Had poor Viola once grasped Harold Lind's estimation of her she would have as soon gazed upon herself in her cof-fin. Harold's comprehension of the essentials was beyond Jane Carew's. It was fairly ghastly, par-taking of the nature of X-rays, but it never disturbed Harold Lind. He went along his dance-track undis-turbed, his blue eyes never losing their high lights of glee, his lips never losing their inscrutable smile at some happy understanding between life and him-self. Harold had fair hair, which was very smooth and glossy. His skin was like a girl's. He was so beautiful that he showed cleverness in an affecta-tion of carelessness in dress. He did not like to wear evening clothes, because they had necessarily to be immaculate. That evening Jane regarded him with an inward criticism that he was too handsome for a man. She told Viola so when the dinner was over and he and the other guests had gone.
"He is very handsome," she said, "but I never like to see a man quite so handsome.""You will change your mind when you see him in tweeds," returned Viola. "He loathes evening clothes."Jane regarded her anxiously. There was some-thing in Viola's tone which disturbed and shocked her. It was inconceivable that Viola should be in love with that youth, and yet -- "He looks very young," said Jane in a prim voice.
"He IS young," admitted Viola; "still, not quite so young as he looks. Sometimes I tell him he will look like a boy if he lives to be eighty.""Well, he must be very young," persisted Jane.
"Yes," said Viola, but she did not say how young.
Viola herself, now that the excitement was over, did not look so young as at the beginning of the evening. She removed the corals, and Jane con-sidered that she looked much better without them.
"Thank you for your corals, dear," said Viola.
"Where Is Margaret?"
Margaret answered for herself by a tap on the door. She and Viola's maid, Louisa, had been sit-ting on an upper landing, out of sight, watching the guests down-stairs. Margaret took the corals and placed them in their nest in the jewel-case, also the amethysts, after Viola had gone. The jewel-case was a curious old affair with many compartments.
The amethysts required two. The comb was so large that it had one for itself. That was the reason why Margaret did not discover that evening that it was gone. Nobody discovered it for three days, when Viola had a little card-party. There was a whist-table for Jane, who had never given up the reserved and stately game. There were six tables in Viola's pretty living-room, with a little conserva-tory at one end and a leaping hearth fire at the other.
Jane's partner was a stout old gentleman whose wife was shrieking with merriment at an auction-bridge table. The other whist-players were a stupid, very small young man who was aimlessly willing to play anything, and an amiable young woman who be-lieved in self-denial. Jane played conscientiously.
She returned trump leads, and played second hand low, and third high, and it was not until the third rubber was over that she saw. It had been in full evidence from the first. Jane would have seen it before the guests arrived, but Viola had not put it in her hair until the last moment. Viola was wild with delight, yet shamefaced and a trifle uneasy.
