"I led the way," confessed the girl, opining wide her eyes, and glancing daringly into his. "Mrs. Pallet-Searing says that this place is a trap; and, that Pallet-Searing says, that she's a terribly designing woman. She says that he says that more--more matches have been made on account of this moonlit spot than in any other place in the Borough of Manhattan." The face of Eliot Beekman flushed, his eyes were unnaturally bright. If only he had dared, with his strong right arm he would have drawn the dainty head of Leslie Wilkinson down on his shoulder and would have kissed her then and there. But he understood the girl too well--or thought he did. "A match-making cosy-corner," he mused. "How many others have you fetched here before--have preceded me?" Leslie laughingly rose and stood looking down upon him. "You're quite the first, I assure you, Mr. Beekman," she answered, still smiling. "Are you--are you sure?" he faltered, becoming suddenly serious. "Quite sure," she answered, catching his mood. Beekman rose, the flush deepening on his face. His breath came fast. "Why, then----" he began; but the girl quickly held up her hand. "Now, don't be silly, don't!" she pleaded. "We've been foolish enough as it is. People will talk, you know; they'll say that it's the get-rich-quick strain in me that makes me do these ill-bred, extraordinary things. But indeed it is not. My own mother, Mr. Beekman," she went on soberly, "was a charming woman--a lady who would never have associated with some of the people that one meets here, even. It must be the pure deviltry in me that makes me do some things--pure deviltry, I assure you, that's all." "To lead some impecunious devil to the most exclusive match-making place in America, and then refuse to.... Pure deviltry! I should think----" Leslie's brow wrinkled. "But Mrs. Pallet-Searing? What is she going to say?" broke in the girl. "Say! Say nothing at all, of course. She and Pallet-Searing must have occupied similar cosy-corners, I suppose, years ago," he answered, with a smile. "I don't quite see the application," returned Leslie, puzzled. "Very likely they had the right: they were engaged, and afterwards married." "True," said Beekman, his eyes feasting on her. "And I don't understand why history can't repeat itself right here and now. The fact is, your hostess will be disappointed--will be annoyed, I'm sure, at our stupidity, if we do not make the most of our opportunity." Leslie smiled a glorious smile upon him. "Mr. Beekman," she whispered softly, "do you think we've been so very stupid?" [Illustration: If only he had dared, ... he would have drawn the dainty head of Leslie Wilkinson down on his shoulder and would have kissed her then and there] She touched him lightly on the arm. He tried to seize her hand, but she drew it from him.