They had asked no questions of each other during those dances. They had been perfectly satisfied with the joy of the moment. She had looked at him in a way and with a softness in her eyes which told him that she found him pleasing in her sight. She had been enthusiastic, with that same exuberance he had just witnessed, over his grace in the dance. They had promised to meet again at the ball-room where social conventions did not prevent healthy young folks from enjoying themselves. “Good heavens!” she whispered to him, as she preceded him through the door. “You work in my father's office?” “You are surprised--a little shocked--and I don't blame you,” he returned, humbly. “As for me, I am simply astounded. But I am not a gossip.” She stole a look at his pale, impassive face, and some of her father's instinct in judging men seemed to reassure her. “One must play a bit,” she sighed. “And it's so stupid most of the time, among folks whom one knows very well. There are no more surprises.” As he shut the door softly behind them Bradish heard Marston, once more immersed in his affairs of business, directing over the telephone that one Fletcher Fogg be located and sent to him. “I apologize,” said Bradish, in the corridor. They were waiting for the elevator. “For what?” She lifted her eyebrows, and there was no hint of annoyance in her dark eyes. “For--well--seeing how the matter stands, it almost seems as if I had presumed--was masquerading. I am only a clerk, and--” “But you are a clerk in Julius Marston's offices,” she said, with pride, “and that means that you are to be trusted. I require no apology from you, Mr.--er--” “My name is Ralph Bradish.” “I dodged away from dullness last evening; I was hoping to have a bit of a frolic. And I found a young gentleman who asked no impertinent questions, who was very gracious, and who was a delight in the dance. It was all very innocent--rather imprudent--but altogether lovely. There!” “I thank you.” “And--well, after Nan Burgess's house-party, I--” She glanced up at him, provocation in her eyes. “But I don't dare to hope, do I, that you will condescend to come again and dance with me?” “Julius Marston has taught his daughter to keep her promise, sir. If I remember, I promised.” He did not reply, for the elevator's grille door clashed open for them to enter. And in the elevator, and later in the car, he was silent, as became the clerk of Marston's offices in the company of Marston's daughter when there were listeners near. Her eyes gave him distinct approval and her lips gave him a charming smile when he alighted at his destination. Bradish stood for a moment and gazed after the car when it threaded its way into the Broadway traffic.