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USTIN, by some mysterious process more direct than vision, had recognized that the feminine figure was Elise, although the tip of her silver slipper was all he could see as the door first opened, but he was not in the least prepared to discover that her companion was his erring accountant. He fixed him with a blank and astonished eye which, to a guilty conscience, looked like severity. Elise flew forward.

"Oh, Mr. Bevans," she said, "how wonderful that you should be here! Will you come up-stairs and dance with me?" And for the first time Austin became aware that somewhere in the house an orchestra was playing dance music.

"I don't dance," he answered. It was an uncompromising lie.

Elise was disappointed. She was dressed in shining white, with a green wreath in her hair and a green feather fan in her hand, but her added beauty did not soften Austin's heart—on the contrary, it made him feel