you are all right," he said reassuringly. "No bones broken."

The commonplace words helped to restore her poise.

"Oh! Thank you!" The words came a little gaspingly still. "I--I don't
know how I came to fall like that. I think you startled me--I didn't
expect to see you here."

"I didn't expect to be," he returned, smiling a little.

Magda did not ask how it had come to pass. For the moment it was
enough for her that he _was_ there--that he had not gone away! She was
conscious of a sudden incomprehensible sense of tumult within her.

"It was lucky for me you happened to be standing just at the foot of the
stairs," she said a little unsteadily.

"I didn't 'happen.' I was there of _malice prepense_"--the familiar
crooked smile flashed out--"waiting for you."

"Waiting for me?"

"Yes. Lady Arabella asked me to shepherd you into the supper-room and
see that you had a glass of champagne and a sandwich before the dancing
begins."

"Orders from headquarters?"--smiling up at him.

"Exactly."

He held out his arm and they moved away together. As they passed through
the crowded rooms one man murmured ironically to another:

"Quarrington's got it badly, I should say."

The second man glanced after the pair with amused eyes.

"So he's the latest victim, is he? I head young Raynham's nose was out
of joint."

"You don't mean she's fired him?"

The other nodded.

"Got the push the day before yesterday," he answered tersely.

"Poor devil! He'll take it hard. He's a hotheaded youngster. Just the
sort to go off and blow his brains out."

Meanwhile Quarrington had established Magda at a corner table in the
empty supper-room and was seeing to it that Lady Arabella's commands
were obeyed, in spite of Magda's assurances that she was not in the
least hungry.

"Then you ought to be," he replied. "After dancing. Besides, unlike the
rest of us, you had no dinner."

"Oh, I had a light meal at six o'clock. But naturally, you can't consume
a solid dinner just before giving a performance."

"I'm not going to pay you compliments about your dancing," he
observed quietly, after a pause. "You must receive a surfeit of them.
But"--looking at her with those direct grey eyes of his--"I'm glad I
didn't leave England when I intended to."

"Why didn't you?" she asked impulsively.

He laughed.

"Because it's so much easier to yield to temptation than to resist," he
answered, not taking his eyes from her face.

She flushed a l