And everywhere there were people dressed in costumes, gorgeous,
picturesque, impressive, historic, or recklessly invented, but suggesting
every era when dress counted at all. They danced on the great platform to
the strains of the invisible band, strolled along the terraces above the
sunken garden, wandered through the groves and "grounds," or sat in the
windows of the great house or in its courts. All wore the little black
satin mask prescribed by Mrs. Thornton, and created an illusion that
transported the imagination far from California. Ruyler had a whimsical
sense of being on another star where the favored of the different periods
of Earth had foregathered for the night.

But there was nothing ghostly in the shrill chatter as incessant as the
twitter of the agitated birds, who found their night snatched from them
and hardly knew whether to scold or join in the chorus.

Ruyler had always protested against the high-pitched din made by even six
American women when gathered together, and to the infernal racket at any
large entertainment; but to-night he sighed, forgetting his apprehensions
for the moment.

He had exquisite memories of these lovely grounds; he and Helene had
spent several days with Mrs. Thornton during their engagement, and she
had lent them the house for their honeymoon; he would have liked to
wander through the pleasant spaces with his wife to-night and make love
to her, instead of spying on her in the company of a detective.