"I love it better than anything in the world!" she replied, with enthusiasm. "Tell me the name of your favorite poet," he said. He saw the quick, sensitive flush of shame leap into the soft cheek at the natural question. "I cannot tell you," she said. "I have had no fair opportunity of making up my mind. I have read bits from them all, but never a whole volume. We have not many books at home." It seemed only kindness that he should say then: "Will you permit me to lend you some of my books, Miss Meredith? I have all the poets. I will send you down a box from college." "Thank you," she said, flushing with pleasure. "I will be very careful with them, Mr. Valchester." Either Walter Earle had forgotten her, or something had detained him. Another set was forming, but he did not come to claim her hand. The dance was made up and she sat still and waited, while the wild, entrancing strains of music filled the night with melody. Ronald Valchester did not seek another partner. He sat down by Jaquelina's side, and talked to her of books and poetry. Now and then he repeated pretty bits from his favorite authors, to which she listened eagerly. It was very pleasant. The night was so bright and warm, the scene was so gay and brilliant, the heavy, odorous perfume of honeysuckles and roses freighted the air. The moon shone bright and clear, the stars seemed to twinkle with joy. In her mind Jaquelina silently contrasted it with last night. Could it be possible that only last night she was kneeling, wet and cold and wretched in the outlaw's cavern retreat, pleading for liberty--she who sat here free and happy, and listened to the musical voice of Ronald Valchester murmuring lovely lines and gentle thoughts from the poets she loved? She shivered as if with cold as the striking contrast presented itself to her mind. "It is a delightful party," she said to herself. "I would not have missed it for anything. I have enjoyed every minute of it." Just then Walter Earle came hurrying up to them. "Miss Meredith, I beg ten thousand pardons," he cried. "Our dance is almost over, but I did not know it was on until this moment. You see I had gone into the house and was talking to my father and some of the older people, and I did not hear the music. Will you excuse me, and give me another dance?" "You are perfectly excusable, sir," she said, "but----" she stopped and looked at Ronald Valchester. "I have just been telling her," said Valchester, "that it is neither customary nor fair to give so many dances to one person." Walter Earle flushed slightly. "As I am her teacher," he said, "that objection should not apply to me. I have been showing her how to do the steps and figures. No one else volunteered to teach her. You did not, Valchester." It was Valchester's turn to blush now. "It was very careless and selfish in me that I did not," he replied. "But I am sufficiently punished for it, as I have not been able to secure her for my partner a single time."