The New York social season in which Miss Joan Fairburne made her début was not more than half finished before the quizzical smile in the dark eyes, half closed above a slightly upturned, dainty nose, which gave her an air of amused boredom at first so fascinating to Dicky Burnett, became, instead of an occasional expression, rather more frequent than befitted a young woman of twenty. Also it was rather too inclusive to be complimentary. As long as it was directed merely in a general way at the assembled company at _thé dansant_ or box party or cards or dance, Dicky fell in with it, and, his long legs crossed before him and his arms folded over his chest, he assumed an air of weary submission…
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