“But I really cannot give you one; I have already put down four extra dances that are not on the card.” “Let me look at your programme, if you don’t mind,” he asked with cool superiority. She handed it to him unhesitatingly. Yes, every dance was full! “Who is this fellow, R.M.F., who has got himself down for the next? Can’t you throw him over--forget all about it--and give it to a very deserving young man instead?” “How do you know that the other is not a very deserving young man also?” she asked with a smile. “Who is he? He did not even give you his valuable autograph! Maybe he is not very keen about dancing--ten to one he is at supper! Who is he?” he repeated pertinaciously. “He is my husband, since you insist on knowing.” “Your husband----” with an impatient gesture, “oh, come then, that’s all right. The laws of society don’t permit married people to dance together. I never heard of such a thing. You’ll give _me_ the dance, won’t you?” he added with tranquil confidence. “No, certainly not!” she replied quietly. “But if he forgets all about it, as he is sure to do--what then?” “Your inference is not very flattering. But in that ‘case unprecedented’ you may have the dance with pleasure,” rejoined Alice with a smile. “You are not a _bride_, are you?” he asked anxiously, after a moment’s silence. “Oh no; I’ve been married more than three years,” she returned with some dignity. “And may I ask if you always dance with your husband at balls?” “Never, as yet, since we have been married,” she replied, looking down and surveying the toe of her slender satin shoe, with critical inspection. “Well, mind you don’t throw me over. Let us sit down here at the end of the room till the band strikes up.” Presently the strains of “Brises des Nuits” was heard, recalling wandering dancers. “Look, Lady Fairfax! here’s a good-looking young hussar coming over here. I know he is going to ask you to dance. Remember your promise.” “Where is he?” she asked indifferently. “There, in the middle of the room. He has stopped to speak to that little artillery-man with the sandy moustache. Don’t you see him? A handsome, determined-looking fellow. I saw a fixed purpose in his eye just now, but you won’t _hear_ of it, will you? Here he comes.” “But he is my husband!” exclaimed Alice triumphantly. “You see he did not forget the dance after all.” “That Fairfax? Why, I thought he was quite elderly, and he does not look more than six or seven and twenty. I see he is a V.C., and I have been wondering who he was all the evening. Will you introduce me?” “I believe this is our dance, Alice?” said Sir Reginald, stiffly. “Yes, I think so,” she replied, rising with assumed indifference. Having presented her late partner, she took her husband’s arm and joined the dancers; one step--two steps--and they floated off.