er small figure made its
softening appeal.

His voice changed. "Don't you worry, little girl," he told her
soothingly, "I'll take care of you."

Her heart leaped.

"Ah, yes," she said faintly, "but what can we do? Had it better be at
once----?"

"At once----?"

"The marriage," she choked out.

"Marriage?" Even in the dimness she saw that he raised his head, his
chin stiffening, his whole outline hardening.

"What are you talking about?" he said very roughly.

"About--about our marriage," she repeated trembling, and then, at
something in his hardness and his grimness, "Why, what did you mean----?
Must it not be soon?"

A dreadful, deliberate silence engulfed her words.

Coldly Johnny's slow voice broke it.

"Who said anything about marriage?" defiantly he demanded. "I never
asked you to marry me."

CHAPTER VIII

JOHNNY BECOMES EXPLICIT

"I never asked you to marry me," he repeated very stiffly.

The crash of all her worlds sounded in Maria Angelina's ears. An aghast
bewilderment flooded her soul.

Pitiably she stammered, "Why it--it was understood, was it not? You
cared--you--you----"

She could not put into words the memories that beset her stricken
consciousness. But the cheeks that had felt his kiss flamed with a
sudden burning scarlet.

"What was understood?" said Johnny Byrd. "That I was going to marry
you--because I kissed you?" And with that dreadful hostile grimness he
insisted, "You knew darned well I wasn't proposing to you."

What did he mean? Had not every action of his been an affirmation of
their relation? Did he believe she was one to whom men acted lightly?
Had he never meant to propose to her, never meant to marry?

Last night at the dance--this afternoon in the woods--what had he meant
by all his admiration and his boldness?

And that evening on the mountain, when, with his arm around her, he had
murmured that he would take care of her. . . . Had he meant nothing by
it, nothing, except the casual insolent intimacy which a man would grant
a _ballerina_?

Or was he now turning from her in dreadful abandonment because after
this scandal she would be too conspicuous to make it agreeable to carry
out the intentions--perhaps only the vaguely realized intentions--of the
past?

But why then, why had he kissed her on the mountain?

Utter terror beset her. Her voice shook so that the words dropped
almost incoherently from the quivering lips.

"But if not--if not--Oh, yo