One of Mrs.Fenwick's guests was Lutie Tresslyn.

He sat opposite her at one of the big round tables, and for an hour he had watched with moody eyes her charming, vivacious face as she conversed with the men on either side of her.

She was as cool, as self- contained as any woman at the table.

There was nothing to indicate that she had not been born to this estate of velvet, unless the freshness of her cheek and the brightness of her eye betrayed her by contrast with the unmistakable haggardness of "the real thing." She was unafraid.

All at once Simmy was proud of her.