directly at Mary, or at Orson J. or at Mrs. Hubbell, as he spoke. The dance concluded, Mrs. Hubbell came back breathless, but enchanted.

“He has beautiful manners,” she said, aloud, in English. “And dance! You feel like a swan when you’re dancing with him. Try him, Mary.” The gigolo’s face, as he bowed before her, was impassive, inscrutable.

But, “Sh!” said Mary.

“Nonsense! Doesn’t understand a word.”

Mary danced the next dance with him. They danced wordlessly until the dance was half over. Then, abruptly, Mary said in English, “What’s your name?”

Close against him she felt a sudden little sharp contraction of the gigolo’s