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 served downstairs, so the big studio and one or two smaller rooms could be used for dancing. This left a small room for a smoking den, and Locke’s own bedroom for a ladies’ dressing room.

A small orchestra arrived and soon proved that it could make jazz music out of all proportion to its size.

Locke asked a Carmen to dance with him, thinking he knew her, but found he was again mistaken.

“Strange how merely a mask can disguise one so thoroughly,” he said; “I’d think the face only a small part of a personality.”

“Then it proves, practically, that the face is the whole individual,” Carmen returned, turning her mask a trifle until he saw a lovely cheek and curving lips. “But as you’ve never seen me before, you couldn’t be expected to know me.”

“I didn’t expect to, I merely thought you were someone else.”

“I know almost no one here,” Carmen said; “of course it makes no difference while we’re masked, but at supper time I shall know nobody.”

“That’s all right, I’ll introduce you about, and you’ll have made dozens of friends among your partners by that time. ”

“Who are you, Sir Monk, tell me that, at any rate.”

“My name would mean nothing to you—it’s entirely uncelebrated.”

“Tell me all the same”—the pretty voice was peremptory.

“Smith,” he replied, “John Smith.”

“And you call that name uncelebrated? One of the best known in the country. Fie, fie, Mr. Smith—just for that I shall call you John.”

“And I may call you?”