When I got to my feet to go back to the dancing-room, everything swayed before my eyes, and I held on to the back of my chair till I had steadied myself. I felt now as bold as a lion, and as soon as I clapped eyes on Elsie, my golden-haired maiden whom I had insulted earlier in the evening, I determined to apologize. I went up to her, looking neither to right nor left, and placing myself in front of her asked her to give me the next dance. She looked at me somewhat timidly, and said she was engaged already, showing me her programme. I at once stroked the name out. “Now,” I said, “let’s go and sit down somewhere. He’ll never find us.” She hesitated, but only for a second or two. Then she rose and put her hand lightly on my arm. “Don’t you think it’s awfully hot in here?” I went on, with amazing aplomb. “Besides, we have to hide any way, haven’t we?” But outside, the landing was full of people. I glanced at the staircase before us, seeming to lead up into regions of dim coolness and solitude, and proposed we should try to find some place on the next floor. There was indeed a seat there, in the dusk, but Elsie looked at it with misgiving. “I don’t think we should have come so high up,” she said. “I’m sure we’re not meant to. I think we’d better go down: nobody else is coming up here.” “But isn’t that just the reason we came? It’s all right. If anybody else does come we won’t be the only ones, and if they don’t who’s to know anything about us?” I don’t know whether Elsie was convinced by this sophistry, but at any rate she sat down. “I want to apologize to you,” I began softly. “Are you very angry with me?” I was surprised at the amount of expression I was able to throw into my voice, and I had a delightful feeling of not caring a straw what I said or did. It was fairly evident that Elsie rather admired the mood I was displaying, though I could see she was slightly puzzled by it. “No,” she answered simply. “I knew you were shy.” She lifted her innocent grey eyes to mine, and it came over me, very intensely, that she was extremely pretty. She looked very soft and demure in her fleecy pink dress, and with her hands folded in her lap. “Do you think I’m shy now?” I asked, smiling. “No,” she answered sweetly. I couldn’t help laughing. At the same time I felt a sudden tenderness for her, which it seemed most essential that I should put into words. “You’ve forgiven me then?” I went on. She laughed. “What nonsense you talk. As if it mattered.” “It matters to me. Say you forgive me.” “I won’t. There’s nothing to forgive.” She blushed and looked down. “Say it,” I persisted, bending towards her. “If you don’t I’ll think you dislike me.” She kept her eyes downcast, and I drew closer still. “Well?” “I don’t dislike you,” she whispered. I kissed her. She blushed a deep delightful blush, but did not move away. The swinging melody of a waltz rose up to us through the dim cool light. “Are you angry now?” I asked.