"I can't think of anything but that child, dancing in the candle-light. Oh, youth, youth, Sophie; is there anything like it in the whole wide world!"
"Diana," Sophie's voice was sharpened by her solicitude, "come away from that mirror."
Diana obediently turned her back on her dressing table, and presently she said, "I wonder if it was wise to have her here?"
"Bettina?"
"Yes."
Sophie was thoughtful. "I'm not sure. Yet it seemed to me to-night that perhaps—you had been wise——"
"What made you think that?"
"Anthony's face when you played, Diana."
"Oh!" Diana crossed the room and dropped down on the rug at her friend's feet. "Tell me how he looked," she said, softly, with her arm outflung across the other's knees.
"It was just in a flash that I saw his face—under the search-light from the ferry. It was the face of a man who had lost the one woman in the world for him, Diana."