Here I was introduced to Madame de Courcelles, a pale, aristocratic woman some few years younger than Madame de Marignan, and received a gracious invitation to all her Monday receptions.

But I was much less interested in Madame de Courcelles than I should have been a couple of hours before.

I scarcely looked at her, and five minutes after I was out of her presence, could not have told whether she was fair or dark, if my life had depended on it! "What say you to walking home ?" said Dalrymple, as we went down stairs.
"It is a superb night, and the fresh air would be delightful after these hot rooms." I assented gladly; so we dismissed the cab, and went out, arm-in-arm, along a labyrinth of quiet streets lighted by gas-lamps few and far between, and traversed only by a few homeward-bound pedestrians.
Emerging presently at the back of the Madeleine, we paused for a moment to admire the noble building by moonlight; then struck across the Marche aux Fleurs and took our way along the Boulevard.
"Are you tired, Damon ?" said Dalrymple presently.
"Not in the least," I replied, with my head full of Madame de Marignan.
"Would you like to look in at an artists' club close by here, where I have the _entree ?_--queer place enough, but amusing to a stranger." "Yes, very much." "Come along, then; but first button up your overcoat to the throat, and tie this colored scarf round your neck.

See, I do the same.

Now take off your gloves--that's it.