Seaton in my place, Josephine,' she whispered, 'Mr.
May is going to excuse me.'

But they crowded round her and insisted upon 'just one more.'
She should not finish this figure if she disliked it,--they
would stop it short: anything to keep Miss Kennedy on the
floor! Would she dance 'Le Verre de Vin'?

'Never!'--with sudden energy.

'My gracious me!--how spiteful we are!' said Kitty Fisher. '_You_
wouldn't have to drink it. Well, then, "La Poursuite"?'

Miss Kennedy hated 'La Poursuite.'

'And--for Miss Kennedy--it is such breathless work,' said Mr.
Kingsland.

'And--for Mr. Kingsland--etcetera, etcetera--' said Kitty
mockingly. 'Stephen, when there is an opportunity for remarks,
I'll let you know. "La Poursuite" is just the thing. You see,
Hazel,' she whispered, 'the Viking can rush in and reclaim his
prize, and reconciliations take place in the final tour.'

'I shall not dance it, Kitty,' said Wych Hazel steadily,
though her cheeks glowed.

'No?' said Miss Fisher. 'Not to the tune of "The king shall
enjoy his own again"? Well--what of "Les Mains Mysterieuses"?'

'_I_ protest, now,' said Captain Lancaster. 'There cannot be
even a pretence of mystery about Miss Kennedy's hand. It is
the merest farce.'

'O, you'd like "Le Coussin," and a chance to go down on your
knees!' said Miss Fisher, slightly provoked.

'Pardon me!' said Captain Lancaster. 'When I go down on my
knees to Miss Kennedy, I shall want no cushion.'

'Good!' said Miss Burr.

'I vow,' said Kitty Fisher, 'you're a lover worth having. But
the pretty dear'll get spoiled among you. Come--what will she
choose? "Le Miroir!" Nothing to do but look at her own sweet
self. Run away, Duchess, and take your seat.'

'Rather stupid, I think,' said Wych Hazel, as she went
unwillingly forward,--but she was getting wild, standing there!
'I think I shall take the first one that comes, and save
trouble.'

She sat down in front of the long mirror, in which she could
see the whole room behind her: everybody in it, and every
motion of everybody. But she really saw but one person, and he
was motionless. Others, gazing in, had a marvellous pretty
picture of golden gauze and scarlet flowers, and a fair young
face from which the gaiety had suddenly died out. The breast
of her dress was covered with 'favours;' basket and ring, bell
and bouquet, a flag, a rosette, a pair of gloves,--Rollo could
not identify all the details of the harlequin crew; but it
looked a