"Once on a time I warned you against the day when such speeches would be made to you," said Rutledge, "and you have grown even more astonishingly into the danger than the eye of prophecy could perceive. I warn you again. Senator Ruffin spoke only the words of soberness, as befits his age and station, but wait you till ardent youth tells you what it thinks—and you will have to hold your head on straight with your hands: and—which dances may I have?" "You unblushing bribe-giver!" said Helen. "But you are just in time. I’ve only one left if I’ve counted them right,—the very last. Why did you come so late? The very last man. Listen, the clocks are striking eleven." "Just couldn’t get here sooner. But I’ll wait for that last dance if it’s a month." The receiving-party was broken up and proceeded to the refreshment room, afterward to go to the ballroom, where were gathered those younger people who were bidden to both reception and dance. "Remember," said Evans to Helen as they left the East Room, "I shall worry along with existence till the last number on the card. See if you can’t run in an extra for my long-suffering benefit. By the way, where is your sister?" "In bed and cried herself to sleep two hours ago. Poor thing, she wanted to come in and see me shine, but mamma said ’no,’ and packed her off to bed on schedule time." "Now look here," said Evans, "little Miss Katherine is a young lady of vast consequence—and it’s a shame she should be treated so: but I think you knew very well I was inquiring for your older sister." "Oh, Elise?" she laughed. "She had gone across the hall with Captain Howard just before you came in." Rutledge did not thank her for the information, and Helen regarded him narrowly with amusement. "Victoria Crosses are not to be resisted, Mr. Rutledge. Heroes always have right of way." "Do you speak from theory or experience?" asked Rutledge. "Both," said Helen, as for the first time that night she thought of her husband. She thought of him quite a number of times before the evening was over. In her thinking there was no disloyalty to her love nor to her vows: but with all the glowing prospects for a round of gayety which the brilliance of this evening of her début promised for her first season, she felt a vague regret that she was not approaching the pleasures of it in the fullest freedom. Some quite well-defined notions of what was due her estate as a wife threatened to put certain limitations and restraints upon her. She half wished that that ceremony had been deferred—only deferred—till the time when she would be ready to enter upon the duties of her wedded life, assume its responsibilities and be obedient to the restrictions which very properly pertain to it.