“You wretch,” with a laugh. “Well, I’ll just take you to pay you out. There—write ‘Jack’ on the first line at once,” and she handed him her programme. Jack took it readily, for of the two he preferred Doreen, the younger, and he calmly proceeded to write his name faintly the whole way down the cardboard. “Goodness!” she cried, when he gave it back to her. “Look at this, Paddy! Did you ever see such cool impudence?” “They’re nearly all promised to me,” said Paddy calmly, “so it’s of no consequence, and now we can both treat him as we like. He’ll be very useful if we get partners we don’t like, and, of course, he can’t dance with anyone else.” “No of course not—what fun,” and Doreen and Paddy went of gayly, while Jack sought Eileen. “He’s put the supper-dance very black, so he means that,” said Doreen. “Why isn’t he having it with you as usual?” “I guess he thought he’d like a change,” Paddy replied loyally, “and quite time,” and Doreen was satisfied. The next moment a voice in Paddy’s ear, with a ring in it that she could not well mistake, said quietly: “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Miss Adair.” “Then you must be very blind,” she answered brightly, “for in my own estimation I’ve been very much _en évidence_ all the time so far. But perhaps you did not recognise me?” “Perhaps,” with a little smile, and Ted Masterman surveyed her in that quiet, masterly way of his, that always made Paddy feel rebellious, with the most unmistakable admiration written on his face. “You look like the Great Mogul,” she exclaimed, “criticising me in that calmly superior way. It’s all my own hair; don’t be alarmed.” “It’s the most beautiful hair I have ever seen,” he said, in a quiet way that could not possibly offend her. “I always thought it was a pity you did not treat it better.” “Then you had no business to think about it at all, or to criticise me.” “A cat may look at a queen. How many dances are you going to give me, now I have risked losing my berth to be here!” “Perhaps two,” hiding a twinkle in her eyes. “More,” he answered. “No,” resolutely. “I say _more_.” “I don’t care what you say.” “I am going to have my dances all the same,” and he gained possession of her programme. “I’ve a great mind to cancel the supper-dance, and not have any with you,” trying to look annoyed. “Now you look angry,” he said; “but don’t be cross to-night. After to-morrow I shall not trouble you again for a long time, so you can well afford to be magnanimous.” Paddy evidently agreed, for she took back her programme and only feigned a slight frown when she saw his name on four different lines. Without meaning to be unkind, the thought, “perhaps it will vex Jack,” entered into her mind and stayed there. And so the game at cross-purposes went on. CHAPTER XIII Paddy’s Views on Sentimentality.