ch
them, giving them the centre of the floor.

"Are you afraid to look at me, cara mia?" whispered Don Carlos, after a
few minutes. "I want to look deep into your dear blue eyes and try to
read what is in your heart."

"I am afraid the result would be a shock to your overweening vanity,
Don Carlos," responded Myra coldly, still avoiding his eyes. "I am
very angry with you, and I am surprised you should have had the
audacity to ask me to dance with you before even attempting to offer
any apology for your outrageous behaviour of this afternoon."

"Dear, darling, delicious, delectable lady, why should I apologise for
taking up your challenge and redeeming my promise?" Don Carlos asked.
"Why profess to be offended with the man who loves you so passionately
for taking a few of the kisses for which he was craving and hungering?
What is it your great Shakespeare wrote that fits our case? ... Ah! I
have it! ..."

He sang the words softly, fitting them to the rhythm of the air the
dance-band was playing:

"_'A thousand kisses buys my heart from me;
And pay them at your leisure, one by one.
What are ten hundred touches unto thee?
Are they not quickly told and quickly gone?
Say for non-payment that the debt should double;
Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?'_"

"Oh, you are an utterly outrageous and impossible man!" exclaimed Myra,
half-annoyed, half-amused, and at heart a little fascinated withal.
"Even if I did flirt with you at Auchinleven to amuse myself, you had
no right to take my teasing seriously--you, who are such an experienced
flirt and philanderer, and who do not expect women to take your
love-making seriously and laugh at them if they do."

"I expect you to take my love-making seriously, Myra," he answered.

"Your expectations will not be realised, Don Carlos, and if you attempt
to repeat your conduct of to-day there will be trouble," said Myra,
forcing herself to meet his ardent eyes unflinchingly. "It is
unsportsmanlike to try to excuse yourself by throwing the blame on me,
pleading, like Adam, 'The woman tempted me.' You might at least
express regret for your conduct."

"I have no regrets, Myra," murmured Don Carlos. "I have tasted the
nectar of your lips, and now I hunger for a banquet of love."

"In that case you will surely die of starvation," said Myra, with a
light laugh.

"Dios! how you torture me, Myra!" muttered Don Carlos frowningly. "I
hoped you would tell me