"If you are ready, dear," he said lightly, "I expect the carriage is. Miss Masters, you know we have another dance to do. My brother-in-law will see after you and your bouquet, if you will allow me." "Oh, give it me, please," cried the girl, with a nervous laugh. "I really did not know you were carrying it. Thanks so much." She had succeeded almost mechanically to Mrs. Lightmark's vacated chair; and as she sat there, with her big nosegay on her lap, he was struck by her extreme pallor, the lassitude in her fine eyes. He ventured to remark on it, when the other two had left them, and she had not made, as he had feared and half anticipated, any motion to rise. "Yes, the rooms are hot and dreadfully full. There are too many sweet-smelling flowers about; they make one faint. It's a relief to sit down in comparative quiet and calm for a little." He was emboldened by her quiescence to resume his chair at her side. "I won't ask you to dance, then," he said; "and allow me to hope that no one else has done so." She glanced indifferently at her card. "No. 10," he added anxiously; "a waltz, after the Lancers." "I see some vague initials," she said; "but probably my partner will not be able to find me, thanks to these shrubs." "I hope not, with all my heart," said Charles devoutly. "At any rate, I can sit with you until you are claimed." "As you like," she replied wearily. "Are you not anxious to dance?" "I am not a great dancer at any time," he protested; "and to-night my heart would be particularly out of it. I came for another purpose." He spoke tensely, and there was a slight tremor in his voice, ordinarily so clear and dogmatic, which alarmed the girl so that she forgot her weariness and meditated a retreat. "Oh, so did I," she replied with forced gaiety. "I came to look after my aunt, which reminds me that this is hardly the way to do it. Will you please take me to her?" "I assure you she does not want you," cried Charles eagerly. "I saw her not ten minutes ago with M. de Loudeac. They seemed to be talking most intimately." "He is an old friend," said Mary; "but, still, they may have finished by this time. One can say a great deal in ten minutes." "Ah!" he put in quickly, "only give me them, Miss Masters." "I really think it is unnecessary," she murmured with a rapid flush. She made another movement, as if she would rise, dropping her bouquet in her haste to prevent his speech. He picked it up quickly and replaced it in her hands. "No, don't go, Miss Masters," he insisted. "I surely have a right to be heard. After all, I do not require ten minutes, nor five. Only I came to say----" "Ah, don't say it, Mr. Sylvester," she pleaded. "What is the good?" "I mean that I love you! I want you immensely to be my wife."