"Exactly," said Simpson in some excitement. "One naturally looks for a little Continental ABANDON at these dances." (PORTRAIT OF SIMPSON SHOWING CONTINENTAL abandon.) "And so I did ask her for a dance just now." "She was cold, Samuel, I fear?" "She said, 'Sorry, I'm full up.'" "A ruse, a mere subterfuge. Now, look here, ask her again, and be more debonair and dashing this time. What you want is to endue her with the spirit of revelry. Perhaps you'd better go to the bar first and have a dry ginger-ale, and then you'll feel more in the Continental mood." "By Jove, I will," said Simpson, with great decision. I wandered into the ball-room and looked round. Columbine was standing in a corner alone; some outsider had cut her dance. As I looked at her I thought of Simpson letting himself go, and smiled to myself. She caught the edge of the smile and unconsciously smiled back. Remembering the good advice which I had just given another, I decided to risk it. "Do you ever dance with architects?" I asked her. "I do sometimes." she said. "Not in Lent," she added. "In Lent," I agreed, "one has to give up the more furious pleasures. Shall we just finish off this dance? And don't let's talk shop about architecture." We finished the dance and retired to the stairs. "I want you to do something for me," I began cautiously. "Anything except go into supper again. I've just done that for somebody else." "No, it's not that. The fact is, I have a great friend called Simpson." "It sounds a case for help," she murmured. "He is here to-night disguised as an executioner in glasses. He is, in fact, the only spectacled beheader present. You can't miss him." "All the same, I managed to just now," she gurgled. "I know. He asked you for a dance and you rebuffed him. Well, he is now fortifying himself with a small dry ginger, and he will then ask you again. Do be kind this time; he's really a delightful person when you get to know him. For instance, both his whiskers are false." "No doubt I should grow to love him," she agreed; "but I didn't much like his outward appearance. However, if both whiskers are false, and if he's really a friend of yours--" "He is naturally as harmless as a lamb," I said; "but at a dance like this he considers it his duty to throw a little Continental ABANDON into his manner." Columbine looked at me thoughtfully, nodding her head, and slowly began to smile. "You see," I said, "the possibilities." "He shall have his dance," she said decidedly. "Thank you very much. I should like to ask for another dance for myself later on, but I am afraid I should try to get out of you what he said, and that wouldn't be fair." "Of course I shouldn't tell you." "Well, anyhow, you'll have had enough of us by then. But softly--he approaches, and I must needs fly, lest he should pierce my disguise. Good-bye, and thank you so much." . . . . . . .