. Watts was cross; Peter wasn't. Peter
would willingly have waited an hour longer, impatient only for the
moment of meeting, not to get downstairs. That is the difference between
a husband and a lover.

"Peter," said Leonore, the moment they were on the stairs, "do you ever
tell other girls political secrets?"

Dorothy was coming just behind, and she poked Peter in the back with her
fan. Then, when Peter turned, she said with her lips as plainly as one
can without speaking: "Say yes."

Peter looked surprised. Then he turned to Leonore and said, "No. You are
the only person, man or woman, with whom I like to talk politics."

"Oh!" shrieked Dorothy to herself. "You great, big, foolish old stupid!
Just as I had fixed it so nicely!" What Dorothy meant is quite
inscrutable. Peter had told the truth.

But, after the greetings were over, Dorothy helped Peter greatly. She
said to him, "Give me your arm, Peter. There is a girl here whom I want
you to meet."

"Peter's going to dance this valse with me," said Leonore. And Peter had
two minutes of bliss, amateur though he was. Then Leonore said cruelly,
"That's enough; you do it very badly!"

When Peter had seated her by her mother, he said: "Excuse me for a
moment. I want to speak to Dorothy."

"I knew you would be philandering after the young married women. Men of
your age always do," said Leonore, with an absolutely incomprehensible
cruelty.

So Peter did not speak to Dorothy. He sat down by Leonore and talked,
till a scoundrelly, wretched, villainous, dastardly, low-born, but very
good-looking fellow carried off his treasure. Then he wended his way to
Dorothy.

"Why did you tell me to say 'yes'?" he asked.

Dorothy sighed. "I thought you couldn't have understood me," she said;
"but you are even worse than I supposed. Never mind, it's done now.
Peter, will you do me a great favor?"

"I should like to," said Peter.

"Miss Biddle, of Philadelphia, is here. She doesn't know many of the
men, and she doesn't dance. Now, if I introduce you, won't you try to
make her have a good time?"

"Certainly," said Peter, gloomily.

"And don't go and desert her, just because another man comes up. It
makes a girl think you are in a hurry to get away, and Miss Biddle is
very sensitive. I know you don't want to hurt her feelings." All this
had been said as they crossed the room. Then: "Miss Biddle, let me
introduce Mr. Stirling."

Peter sat down to his duty. "I mustn't look at