to me, because I could not hear what they said, it was easy to assume that they had made some important and startling discovery in their crazy quest of exchanging radio communications with Mars.

I was diplomatic enough to leave them to themselves. A few minutes later, Jane appeared on the scene, and after greeting our guest, I took her to one side, as I was burning to tell her what Olinski had said. Jane is a plump, gushing soul, with soft, silvery hair, and very distinguished in her manner. She had sponsored Pat's formal coming-out the previous winter, and felt her responsibility keenly.After she had heard all I had to report, she said: "Well, that's something. But things still seem to be against us. The spark of desire to be a princess or duchess burns in every girl's nature, whether she's rich or poor. Pat is just pent up with romance, but she's never had a chance to express it until Prince Matani came along."

"Just a lot of romantic piffle," I said. "What we need is some artful lead to get her mind off the Prince."

"I'm afraid it's too late," she sighed. "Even if Mr. Olinski tells Henry everything that you've just told me, he'll simply turn up his nose. Henry's as obstinate as a mule once his mind gets set on something, and it wouldn't surprise me a bit if he announced their betrothal at dinner, tonight."

Pat's future now appearing to be an unpleasant speculation, and feeling utterly disheartened about the whole situation, for I was enormously fond of her, I was about to go to Henry and speak my mind, when she suddenly appeared in the picture.

I had often thought of having a great artist do a study in oils of Pat coming down our great, stone staircase; she does it so gracefully and with such regal poise. Slim, brown-haired, and blue-eyed, no one could look at her without being enthralled. Her fragility, like a rare piece of Dresden china, was most appealing; she was so intensely feminine. She looked particularly lovely this night in her simple dinner frock, the soft and filmy draperies seeming to envelop her like a pastel-tinted cloud.

As Olinski advanced eagerly to meet her, she favored him with a delightful smile. He bowed low and kissed her hand, not in a perfunctory, European-custom way, but rather warmly and explosively.

"My dear Patricia!" he exclaimed. "You look--adorable."

"And you look hungry," she returned his compliment with a mischievous twinkle.

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