s of
bumping humanity and offered his arm.

"My waltz, I believe," he said, with the ease of the heir-apparent of
Ananias. "I was unlucky enough, in losing the first turn, not to
grudge Major Bouncey the rest."

"You deserve to lose the whole for coming late," the girl answered,
drawing her arm from her partner's with that pretty reluctance which
makes society's stage-business seem born in woman. "It was just too
good of Major Bouncey to take your place and save my being a
wall-flower." And, not pausing for that gallant soldier's labored
disclaimer, the graceful pair glided away to the graceful time of 'La
Gitana' waltz.

"Horrid bore, that Bouncey," Blanche panted in the first pause. "Don't
stop near him! He does all his dancing on my insteps; and I dare not
stop for fear of his still more dreadful spooning."

"You would not have _me_ blame him? A better balanced brain might well
lose its poise, with _such_ temptation!" And the man looked down on
her with very eloquent eyes.

There was a pause. Then Van Morris bent his head, and the eyes still
more strongly emphasized the words:

"Blanche, do you know how dangerously lovely you are?"

The girl's frank eyes dropped beneath the strong light in his; but
there was not a shade of consciousness in the soft laugh that prefaced
her reply:

"Ah! I've a cheval-glass and this is my first ball. So I suppose I
know how 'dangerous' I am! Then, too, that awful Bouncey called me a
lily of the valley!"

"It is the purest flower made by God's hand," were Morris's simple
words; but the vibrant tone came from deeper than the lips, now close
pressed together.

"But I _know_ I'm not," Blanche retorted, merrily, "for _they_ drink
only dew, and I am quite wild for Regent's punch!"

They were at the refreshment room, now nearly deserted. Once more the
man's eyes grew darker and deeper, as they met the girl's frank blue
ones.

"And yet, not purer," he said, unheeding the interruption, "than the
heart you, little girl, will soon give to some----"

He stopped abruptly; but the eyes added more than the words left
unsaid.

Again Blanche dropped her eyes quickly; but her color never
heightened, nor did the soft laces nestling over the graceful bust
move at all quicker than the waltz might warrant. Van's face still
bent over her with earnest expression, as she sipped the glass of
punch he handed her; but neither spoke until they had crossed the
corridor and passed another door in