ly. "I shan't dance with you, if you speak of it
again."

"You shall dance with me," grimly, "this moment is my own--"

She was like wax in his strong arms. "Oh, how dare you." She was cold
with auger. "I want to stop."

"And I could dance forever. That's the irony of it--that I cannot make
you. But if I had Drake's money, I'd make you."

"Do you think it is his money?"

"Perhaps not. But the world will think it."

"If--if he wanted me, I'd marry him if he were a beggar in the streets."

"Has it gone as far as that? But you wouldn't marry a beggar. A
troubadour beneath your balcony, yes. But not a beggar. You'd want
him silken and blond and singing, and staying at home while other men
fought--"

She stopped at once. "If you knew what you were talking about; I'd
never speak to you again. But because I was fool enough once to
believe that Derry Drake was a coward, I am going to forgive you. But
I shall not dance with you again; ever--"

Making her way back alone to the box, she saw with a throb of relief
that her father had joined Emily and Marion Gray.

He uttered a quick exclamation as she came up. "What's the matter,
daughter?"

Her throat was dry. "I can't tell you now--there are too many people.
It was Ralph. I hate him, Daddy."

"My dear--"

"I do."

"But why?"

"Please, I don't want to talk about it--wait until we get home."

Looking out over the heads of the swaying crowd, she saw that Derry was
dancing with Alma Drew. And it was Alma who had said at the
Witherspoon dinner, "Everybody will forgive a man with money."

And that was what Ralph had thought of her, that she was like
Alma--that money could buy her--that she would sell the honor of her
country for gold--.

But worse than any hurt of her own was the hurt of the thing for Derry.
Ralph Witherspoon had dared to point a finger of scorn at him--other
people had dared--

She suffered intensely, not as a child, but as a woman.

Alma, out on the floor, was saying to Derry, "I saw you dancing with
Jean McKenzie. She's a quaint little duck."

"Not a duck, Alma," he was smiling, "a white dove--or a silver swan."
The look that he sent across the room to Jean was a revelation.

Like Ralph, she grew hateful. "So that's it? Well, a man with money
can get anything."

He had no anger for her. Jean might blaze in his defense, but his own
fires were not to be fanned by any words of Alma Drew. If he lost his
fortune, Jea