An intense feeling of admiration for her sways Beauclerk. How new a thing to find a girl so beautiful, with so much intelligence. Surely instinct is the great lever that moves humanity. Why has not this girl the thousands that render Miss Maliphant so very desirable? What a _betise_ on the part of Mother Nature. Alas! it would be too much to expect from that niggardly Dame. Beauty, intelligence, wealth! All rolled into one personality. Impossible! "You are candid,'" says he, his tone sorrowful. "That is what one should always be," says she in turn. "You are _too_ stern a judge. How shall I convince you," exclaims he--"of _what_ he leaves open? If I were to swear----" "_Do_ not," says she quickly. "Well, I won't. But Joyce!" He pauses, purposely. It is the first time he has ever called her by her Christian name, and a little soft color springs into the girl's cheeks as she hears him. "You know," says he, "you _do_ know?" It is a question; but _again_ what? _What_ does she know? He had accredited her with remarkable intelligence a moment ago, but as a fact the girl's knowledge of life is but a poor thing in comparison with that of the man of the world. She belies her intelligence on the spot. "Yes, I think I do," says she shyly. In fact she is longing to believe, to be sure of this thing, that to her is so plain that she has omitted to notice that he has never put it into words. "You will trust in me?" says he. "Yes, I trust you," says she simply. Her pretty gloved hand is lying on her lap. Raising it, he presses it passionately to his lips. Joyce, with a little nervous movement, withdraws it quickly. The color dies from her lips. Even at this supreme moment does Doubt hold her in thrall! Her face is marvelously bright and happy, however, as she rises precipitately to her feet, much to Beauclerk's relief. It has gone quite far enough he tells himself--five minutes more and he would have found himself in a rather embarrassing position. Really these pretty girls are very dangerous. "Come, we must go back to the ballroom," says she gaily. "We have been here an unconscionable time. I am afraid my partner for this dance has been looking for me, and will scarcely forgive my treating him so badly. If I had only told him I _wouldn't_ dance with him he might have got another partner and enjoyed himself." "Better to have loved and lost," quotes Beauclerk in his airiest manner. It is _so_ airy that it strikes Joyce unpleasantly. Surely after all--after----She pulls herself together angrily. Is she _always_ to find fault with him? Must she have his whole nature altered to suit her taste? "Ah, there is Dicky Browne," says she, glancing from where she is now standing at the door of the conservatory to where Mr. Browne may be seen leaning against a curtain with his lips curved in a truly benevolent smile. CHAPTER XIII.