tion appealed to the passion for beauty which
was strong in her nature.

She turned to her partner. "Do they not dance beautifully?" she
exclaimed. That much-enduring youth replied that they did, and asked her
again if she were ready. She laid her hand on his shoulder and they
started. Magdalena realised at once that her partner was an excellent
dancer, and that she was not. She felt that she was heavy, and marvelled
at the lightness of Ila and Rose. They seemed barely to touch the floor,
and were laughing and chatting as naturally as if they had no feet to
guide.

"Could you take a little longer step?" asked Mr. Payne, politely.
"I--I--beg pardon for suggesting it, but it's the fashion just now.
That's right--a little longer. Oh, I--I--am afraid that your feet are
too small. Shall we sit down a moment?"

They sat down in the recess, and Payne wiped his brow. "It is so warm,"
he muttered apologetically.

"Mr. Rush does not look warm," she said cruelly.

He repressed the obvious reply, but made no other. In a moment he asked
her if she cared to finish the waltz.

"No," she said. "I do not. You may go and finish it with someone else,
if you like."

He moved off with alacrity, and Magdalena sat alone for some moments
feeling very miserable. What was the matter with her? Could she do
nothing well? And she should be a wall-flower for the rest of the
evening, of course. That wretched man would tell everybody how badly she
danced.

But she had forgotten that she was hostess. A moment after the waltz
ended, three young men came over to her and begged for the honour of her
hand. They were Rollins, the sharp-faced Fort, and Alan Rush. She gave
the dance to follow to Rush, and the others, having inscribed her name
on their cuffs, moved off. Rush sat down beside her. He had a frank kind
face, and the beauty of his figure and the grace of his carriage had
given him a reputation for good looks which had reached even Magdalena's
ears. He was at that time the most popular young man in San Francisco
society. Magdalena decided that she liked him better than anyone she had
met except Trennahan. His voice was rich and Southern, although he had
no Spanish blood in him.

"I watched you dance," said Magdalena, abruptly. "I don't dance well
enough for you."

"Dancing is all a matter of habit," he said kindly. "This is my third
year. You have no idea how awkward I was when I began. I am sure you
will be the best dancer in society