"Perhaps I could; although you must permit me to doubt it. I only know I would rather have you for a partner than any one else in the room." I am not proof against flattery, A smile is born and grows steadily round my lips, until at length my whole face beams. "Well, you might try to _appear_ more contented," I say, with a last feeble attempt at remonstrance. "When I get what I want I always look pleased." "I know you do. But I am a thankless being; the more I get the more I want. When a man is starving, to give him a _little_ only adds to the pangs he suffers---" The last bars of the waltz died out with a lingering wailing sigh. A little hush falls. . . . Sir George Ashurst, coming up, offers me his arm. "You will let me put my name down for another before you go?" asks Sir Mark, hurriedly, following us a few steps. I hand him my card. "Keep it for me," I say, "until after the dance. You can then return it." "May I have the next after this?" very eagerly. I glance at him over my shoulder. "Yes--if I am disengaged, and you care for it," I make answer, forgetful of my character as hostess, of the world's tongue, of everything but the sweet gayety of the present hour. --- The night wears on. Already it is one hour past midnight. Sir Mark is again my partner. Up to this the evening has fully answered my fondest expectations. I have danced incessantly. I have been utterly, thoughtlessly happy. Now a slight contraction about the soles of my feet warns me I begin to experience fatigue. Sir Mark leads me towards a conservatory, dimly lit and exquisitely arranged, at the door of which I stand to bestow a backward glance upon the ball-room. At a considerable distance I can discern Bebe standing beside Lord Chandos. It is without doubt an interval in their dance, but they are not talking. Miss Beautoun's head is slightly inclined _from_ her companion, and it is evident to me she has mounted an exceedingly high horse. Nevertheless, to see her with him at all gratifies me; as it is surely a step in the right direction. Dora is waltzing with a "Heavy," and I can see Sir George glowering upon them from a remote corner. Dora sees him also, and instantly smiles tenderly into her dragoon's light-blue eyes. This too looks promising. My spirits go up another degree, and I indulge in a low pleased laugh. "Still revelling in bliss, Mrs. Carrington?" Sir Mark's voice recalls me. "No flaw as yet?" "Not one. Of course not. What a ridiculous question! I told you nothing should interfere with my enjoyment this evening. Yet, stay"--with a demure and dejected shake of the head: "every now and then I _am_ troubled with a faint regret." "And it--is---" "That all this must some time come to an end. There, is not that a haunting thought?" I laugh, so does he. "I shall have plenty of it in the spring," I continue, presently. "'Duke says I shall go to London then."