I got laughing so
that I had to stop."

Her face was flushed, and she was slightly breathless as she ended, but
she stared across the table with brazen determination, like a naughty
child expecting a slap.

Merryon's face, however, betrayed neither astonishment nor disapproval.
He even smiled a little as he said, "Perhaps you would like to give me
lessons in that also? I've often wondered how it was done."

She smiled back at him with instant and obvious relief.

"No, I shan't do it again. It's not proper. But I will teach you to
dance. I'd sooner dance with you than any of 'em."

It was naively spoken, so naively that Merryon's faint smile turned into
something that was almost genial. What a youngster she was! Her
freshness was a perpetual source of wonder to him when he remembered
whence she had come to him.

"I am quite willing to be taught," he said. "But it must be in strict
privacy."

She nodded gaily.

"Of course. You shall have a lesson to-night--when we get back from the
Burtons' dinner. I'm real sorry you were bored, Billikins. You shan't be
again."

That was her attitude always, half-maternal, half-quizzing, as if
something about him amused her; yet always anxious to please him, always
ready to set his wishes before her own, so long as he did not attempt to
treat her seriously. She had left all that was serious in that other
life that had ended with the fall of the safety-curtain on a certain
night in England many aeons ago. Her personality now was light as
gossamer, irresponsible as thistledown. The deeper things of life passed
her by. She seemed wholly unaware of them.

"You'll be quite an accomplished dancer by the time everyone comes back
from the Hills," she remarked, balancing a fork on one slender brown
finger. "We'll have a ball for two--every night."

"We!" said Merryon.

She glanced at him.

"I said 'we.'"

"I know you did." The man's voice had suddenly a dogged ring; he looked
across at the vivid, piquant face with the suggestion of a frown between
his eyes.

"Don't do that!" she said, lightly. "Never do that, Billikins! It's
most unbecoming behaviour. What's the matter?"

"The matter?" he said, slowly. "The matter is that you are going to the
Hills for the hot weather with the rest of the women, Puck. I can't keep
you here."

She made a rude face at him.

"Preserve me from any cattery in the Hills!" she said. "I'm going to
stay with you."

"You can't," said Merryon.