"Ah!"
he exclaimed, "I have found the enchantress herself! Miss----" He
hesitated, for an instant unaccountably shaken out of his debonair
self-possession. Webb sprang to the rescue with a formal introduction, and
Travers proceeded, if not entirely with his old equanimity. "I beg your
pardon, Miss Cary," he apologized. "Your face is, strangely enough, so
familiar to me that I took you for an old acquaintance--perhaps, indeed,
you are, if in our modern days Circe finds it necessary to travel
incognito."
Beatrice joined in the general amusement, her unusually large and
beautiful eyes bright with elation.
"May I claim your assistance?" Travers went on. "Instinct tells me that we
shall be irresistible."
"Willingly," Beatrice responded, "though I can not imagine how I can help
you."
"Leave that to me," he said, offering her his arm. "My plans are
Napoleonic in their depth and magnitude. If you will allow me to unfold
them to you before the dancing begins--?"
She smiled her assent, and walked at his side toward the Colonel's
bungalow. On their way they passed Mrs. Cary, who, strangely enough, did
not respond to the half-triumphant glance which her daughter cast at her.
She turned hastily aside.
"Mr. Travers is no doubt--" she began, in a confidential undertone; but
her companion, Mrs. Carmichael, had taken the opportunity and vanished.
The light-hearted, superficial discussion, with its scarcely felt
undercurrent of tragic reminiscence, had lasted through the swift sunset,
and already dusk was beginning to throw its long shadows over the gaily
dressed figures that streamed up toward the bungalow.
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