He lighted a cigarette and put the case near the line. "Do you not enjoy a cigarette?" "Sometimes," she answered. "But that idea--" "Will you not have one?" He moved the case still nearer to the line. She reached out a firm round white arm. "One moment," he said; "let us understand each other thoroughly." "What do you mean?" her arm poised in mid-air. "To touch a cigarette you must cross the line to this side." She withdrew her arm slowly. "I shall not smoke. If I crossed the line I should establish a dangerous precedent. A good stroke. Now, the idea. I must have that idea." He blew the smoke toward the lamp; it sailed over the flaming wicks and darted into the dark beyond. "The mirror over the piano confused me. I had seen it somewhere before. Then, there was that old copy of Botticelli. The frame was familiar, but I could not place it. This stein, however!" He laughed; the laughter was boyish, even triumphant. "Well, that stein?" She was now leaning across the table, her fingers tense on the cloth. "I bought that stein two seasons ago. This is the Sandfords' place, and you are the veiled lady who has been riding Mrs. Sandford's favorite hunter in the park." "And so?" "I shall find out who you are presently." "How?" "That shall be my secret. Mutual friends, indeed! You will not have to send me home blindfolded." "That is precisely what I shall do, in a certain sense. My name? Perhaps. But you will never know my face." "Suppose I should determine to cross the line, despite your precepts?" They stood up simultaneously. In a matter of this sort he was by far the quicker. In an instant he had caught her by the wrist, at the same time drawing her irresistibly round the table toward him. His grasp was not rough, only firm. She ceased to pull against him. "I must see your face. I shall never be at peace if I do not." "Certainly you will never know any peace if you do. Be careful!" His free hand stole toward the strings of her mask. She moved not. His face was very close to hers now. If only she would struggle! Yes, he was certain now that her eyes were blue. But they looked at him with a menace which chilled his ardor. He dropped the hand from the mask and released her wrist. "No, I haven't the courage. If I take that mask from your face, it will be the end. And I do not want this ever to end. If you will not let me see your face of your own free will, so be it. I shall see it some day, mark me. Fate does not cross two paths in this manner without a purpose." He stepped back slowly. "You do not understand the lure of that mask." "Perhaps I do. I am beginning to admire your self-control, Mr. Hillard; I am beginning to admire it very much. But I am tired now, and I must ask you to go." "Once more, will you let me see your face?"