Instantly she recoiled, almost upsetting her chair, and he caught it and steadied her. His inclination to laugh subsided. He could not see her face, but, in the chilled silence, he was conscious of her dismay and of her rigid body beside him. The shock of contact confused him, too. A delicate perfume of chaste youth seemed to cling to him, invade him, disturbing his natural ease and fluency. For the first time in his life, perhaps, he found nothing flippant to say. For a long while they remained mute, unstirring, as the endless reel droned on and on. Finally,--and very careful not to touch her,--he ventured to whisper: “Why not make it this evening--unless you are otherwise engaged?” He could scarcely hear her reply: “Mr. Smull is giving a dinner for Betsy. I promised to go.” “_Who_ is giving the party?” “Mr. Smull.” Again he experienced a vague sense of irritation. “I thought you had no dinner gown,” he said drily. “Betsy offered me one of hers.” After a silence he said cheerfully: “I hope you’ll have a gay evening, Eris. Call me up when you care to dine with me.” They watched the screen for a while, not speaking. Presently, however, she whispered: “I wish I could, to-night. I’d rather be with you. I’ve waited so long.... And now--I can’t! And I’m heartbroken, Mr. Annan.” He was beginning to realise that the candour of this girl held an unsuspected but unmistakable charm for him. He said under his breath: “I’ll drive you home when this is over. We can plan things then.” “I can’t, Mr. Annan. Mr. Smull has offered to drive me home.” A disagreeable sensation--the same indefinite feeling--dismissed with a slight shrug;--and suddenly, subtly, this girl’s position and his own slipped into the reverse. Now it was he who seemed to have waited so long for a chance to talk to her,--he who was becoming impatient. “Can you give me to-morrow evening, Eris?” “Oh, I’m sorry! There is another party. I promised Betsy to go with her.” “Is Mr. Smull perpetually giving parties?” he demanded. “It’s somebody else. I don’t remember who. Mr. Smull is taking Betsy and me.” “Have you any time at all to give me this week?” he inquired, the slightest hint of sarcasm in his pretended amusement. “Yes. Thursday. May I come?” “I am flattered speechless.” He rather felt than saw her turn toward him in her chair, then subside in silence. He leaned over, closer: “I _want_ you; I didn’t realise how much I wished to talk to you,” he said. “I want you to come and dine at the house, Eris, and tell me everything you care to. Will you?” After a while, slowly: “I need to ... if you’ll let me.... You don’t seem to understand how much you mean to me. I never before talked to a man like you. I’ve been wild to see you again----” “What!” “You know it!” she said passionately. “You fascinate me! If you’ll only talk to me, sometimes, I can learn something!”