"None, absolutely none. I am told that you are a gentleman; so I am confident that you will not stoop to use force." "Only the force of eloquence, if ever I may lay claim to that again." "You are beginning well. For I tell you, Mr. Hillard, I shall expect but the most brilliant wit from you to-night. As for me, I shall only interpolate occasionally. Now, begin." "I am not used to dancing without the pole." "You must learn. Dance!" "Upon what--nothing? And how shall I know that my dancing pleases you?" "I agree to tell you. I wear this mask to-night because I am taking a surreptitious leaf out of my book of cares." "Cares? Have you any?" "If I were without cares it would not be necessary to seek diversions of this equivocal character." She crossed her arms. The magic of old Venice seemed at that moment to enfold her. "You are, then, seeking a diversion?" "Nothing more or less. Do not flatter yourself that there is anything personal or romantic on my side. I am bored." "I am wholly in your hands," he said; "and they are very beautiful hands." "Is there anything more beautiful than a cat's paw, when the claws are hidden? Never judge a woman by her hands." Nevertheless she buried her hands in the depths of a down-pillow. She had forgotten her rings. She slipped them off and managed to hide them. "I promise to remember. Your letters--" he began diffidently. Where the deuce was his tongue? Was he to be tongue-tied all the evening before this Columbine, who, with the aid of her mask, was covertly laughing at his awkwardness? "My letters? A woman often writes what she will not say, and says what she will not write. Did you not ask me to disillusion you?" "Yes, but softly, softly. I begin to believe one thing: you brought me here to teach me a lesson. Gentlemen should never use the personal column." "Nor should ladies read it. I am not saving any mercy for myself!" with laughter. "Shall I begin with my past?" "Something less horrifying, if you please!" "I object to the word nice," he said, seeking a new channel, for he was not steering very well in those he had so far selected. "The word was employed negligently. Your friends used the word." "I should have preferred milksop!" He was growing impatient. "Hadn't you better try some new kind of torture?" "This is only a skirmish; your real torture hasn't even begun yet. But this will give you an appetite. I do not drink champagne, but the chambertin will do nicely. Oh, I propose that you shall pay for this dinner, Mr. Hillard; pay for the privilege of sharing it with me." "Bring on the check. I should like to settle the bill at once, and have it off my mind." "You may take off your gloves," she countered. "I know that you must feel uncomfortable with them on. To clasp one's own hands is a kind of personal sympathy. Try it." He drew them off, not ungracefully, and tucked them away. He spread his thin brown muscular fingers a few times, then folded his arms.