What could John say? There is a law that even the meanest men abide, to speak no harm of each other to the other sex. He hesitated. “I think you need have no fear of Mr. Townley, now,” he said, at last. Derwent had told him of the day in Wall Street. Gracie turned her dear eyes full on his; and then the barriers of his heart broke down. “But I must speak selfishly, Miss Holyoke. I love you with all my heart--for all my life.” The words had come so naturally, that they had passed among the spoken words of memory, and ceased--before Gracie started and the color left her cheeks. She had not dreamed of this; she had not kept, herself, the lesson she had given Mamie; and then she blamed herself for having been too much wrapped up in her own heart history. “O Mr. Haviland,” she said; “forgive me; I never thought of this.” She was crying; John’s voice was husky, and he did not trust himself to speak, but looked across the brilliant room. The minuet was being danced; and just in front was Kitty Farnum, looking as if radiant with the triumph of the night. She was walking the minuet with Arthur Holyoke; who was brilliant in a velvet court-dress, with a sparkling sword; and opposite was Birmingham, dancing with Mrs. De Witt, but with eyes for her alone. The other figures in the dance were Mrs. Malgam, Mrs. Levison Gower, Killian Van Kull and Caryl Wemyss. John turned his eyes to hers again. “You care for Arthur?” Many women would have thought he had no right to ask the question; but Gracie’s was too true a life for this. “Yes,” she said, clearly. “Forgive me,” answered John, humbly. And Gracie knew that he was still her friend; and Arthur’s too. And so, no more was said between them; and when, the minuet was finished, Gracie and poor Mamie went home together and Lionel Derwent went away with John. Mamie tore the flower from her breast, and threw herself upon her bed in a burst of tears; and Gracie sat with her till the streaks of dawn appeared. * * * * * But Flossie and Kitty Farnum still danced on, untired; and all men were divided which of these had been the queen of the famous ball. Already had the business of the work-day world begun when Flossie took her leave, and went back to the dressing-room, and put on her satin cloak, and came down the grand staircase, looking strangely brilliant, younger than ever, people said, with her blazing diamonds and not one ribbon out of place about her perfect dress. She went down the carpeted pavilion, Caryl Wemyss putting the ermine _sortie de bal_ with careful touch about her shoulders. No one but a policeman and a little crowd of street boys saw them go, as she got quickly into Caryl Wemyss’s carriage and drove off. CHAPTER XXXV. SORTIE DU BAL.