, the close embrace.

The music ended, the dancers stopped, the shuffling ceased. There were
no seats unoccupied, so the dancers walked around or formed in groups.

"Well, I see Ruby has spotted you," observed Hough.

Neale did not gather exactly what the gambler meant, yet he associated
the remark with a girl dressed in red who had paused at the door with
others and looked directly at Neale. At that moment some one engaged
Hough's attention.

The girl would have been striking in any company. Neale thought her
neither beautiful nor pretty, but he kept on looking. Her arms were
bare, her dress cut very low. Her face offered vivid contrast to the
carmine on her lips. It was a round, soft face, with narrow eyes, dark,
seductive, bold. She tilted her head to one side and suddenly smiled at
Neale. It startled him. It was a smile with the shock of a bullet. It
held Neale, so that when she crossed to him he could not move. He felt
rather than saw Hough return to his side. The girl took hold of the
lapels of Neale's coat. She looked up. Her eyes were dark, with what
seemed red shadows deep in them. She had white teeth. The carmined
lips curled in a smile--a smile, impossible to believe, of youth and
sweetness, that disclosed a dimple in her cheek. She was pretty. She was
holding him, pulling him a little toward her.

"I like you!" she exclaimed.

The suddenness of the incident, the impossibility of what was happening,
made Neale dumb. He felt her, saw her as he were in a dream. Her face
possessed a peculiar fascination. The sleepy, seductive eyes; the
provoking half-smile, teasing, alluring; the red lips, full and young
through the carmine paint; all of her seemed to breathe a different kind
of a power than he had ever before experienced--unspiritual, elemental,
strong as some heady wine. She represented youth, health, beauty,
terribly linked with evil wisdom, and a corrupt and irresistible power,
possessing a base and mysterious affinity for man.

The breath and the charm and the pestilence of her passed over Neale
like fire.

"Sweetheart, will you dance with me?" she asked, with her head tilted to
one side and her half-open veiled eyes on his.

"No," replied Neale. He put her from him, gently but coldly.

She showed slow surprise. "Why not? Can't you dance? You don't look like
a gawk."

"Yes, I can dance," replied Neale.

"Then will you dance with me?" she retorted, and red spots showed
through the white on her