“Of course I should, you dear old Geoff,” she affirmed, with a toss of her bright head. “How?” “Why, I only need to look into your eyes to know you,” she said, with a fond upward glance. At this reply, Geoffrey hugged close to his side the small hand that lay on his arm, and his heart thrilled with a sweet hope. “What is there in my eyes, Gladys, that is different from Everet Mapleson’s?” he asked. She blushed crimson at the question, for she knew that it was only in their expression that she could detect any difference. “Perhaps strangers could not tell you apart,” she admitted, with drooping lids; “probably it is because we have lived together so long that I know your every expression; then, too, there is a certain little quiver about your lips when you smile that he does not have. Your voices, though, are entirely different.” “Yes; any one could distinguish between us to hear us speak,” Geoffrey assented; but his heart was bounding with joy, for he knew well enough that only the eye of love could have detected the points that she had mentioned. Yet, in spite of all, he experienced a feeling of uneasiness over the fact that Everet Mapleson was spending his recess in New York and was cultivating the acquaintance of Gladys. He had never mentioned him in any of his letters—had never spoken of that hazing experience, simply because his mind had been so engrossed with other things that he had not thought to do so. “There is the band, Geoff,” Gladys exclaimed, as the music came floating in from the south balcony. “Mr. Loring has had the loveliest pavilion erected for dancing, and you know that I cannot keep still a moment within ear-shot of such enticing strains. Come, let us go out.” “Which means, of course, that I am to have the first set with you,” he said, smiling. “It does mean just that. You know I always like to dance with you, for you suit your step to mine so nicely. There! I’m so glad you asked me, for here comes Mr. Mapleson, this minute, doubtless to make the same request,” Gladys concluded, under her breath, as she saw the young man step out from among the draperies, where he had been watching them, and approach them. CHAPTER XIII. “FIRST IN TIME, FIRST BY RIGHT!” Everet Mapleson advanced toward the young couple with all the assurance imaginable. He nodded indifferently to Geoffrey, simply saying, in a patronizing tone: “How are you, Huntress?” and then turned to Gladys with his most alluring smile. “The signal for dancing has been given, Miss Huntress; may I have the pleasure of doing the opening set with you?” Gladys’ cheeks were very red, for she resented his manner toward Geoffrey. What right had he to assume such insolent superiority over him, who she knew possessed by far the nobler nature of the two. But she said politely, though with a little secret feeling of triumph in refusing him: