"Which?" drawled Vi, her mouth almost on his, her wide, gray eyes so near that he closed his to save himself from blindness. "Better make it 'go,'" said Lewis, and grinned. "You've saved yourself," said Vi, with a laugh. "If you hadn't grinned, I'd have kissed you." CHAPTER XXIX Lewis went to the Ruttle-Marter ball determined to be gay. He searched for Vi, but did not find her. By twelve o'clock he had to admit that he was more than bored, and said so to a neighbor. "That's impossible," said the neighbor, yawning. "Boredom is an ultimate. There's nothing beyond it; consequently, you can't be more than bored." "You're wrong," said Lady Derl from behind them. "For a man there's always something beyond boredom: there's going home." "_Touché_," cried Lewis and then suddenly straightened. While they had been chatting, the curtain of the improvised stage at one end of the ball-room had gone up. In the center of the stage stood a figure that Lewis would have recognized at once even if he had not been a participant in the secret. The figure was that of a tall woman. Her dark hair--and there was plenty of it--was done in the Greek style. So were her clothes, if such filmy draperies could be justly termed clothes. They were caught up under her breasts, and hung in airy loops to a little below her knees. They were worn so skilfully that art did not appear. They fluttered about her softly moving limbs, but never flew. The woman was apparently blindfolded--with chiffon. The foamy bandage proved an efficient mask. Chiffon and draperies were of that color known to connoisseurs as _cuisse de nymphe_. A buzz of interested questioning swept over the company. Mrs. Ruttle-Marter, who had been quite abandoned for over an hour, suddenly found herself the center of a curious and eager group. "Who is she?" "What is she?" "Where did you get her?" The trembling hostess, flushed by the first successful moment in many dreary seasons, was almost too gulpy to speak. But words came at last. "Really, my dear Duchess, I don't know who she is. I don't know where she comes from or what she is. I only know her price and the name of her dance. If I told the price, well, there wouldn't be any rush in this crowd to engage her." So early did power lead the long-suffering Mrs. Ruttle-Marter to lap at revenge! "Well, tell us the name of her dance, anyway," said a tall, soldierly gray-head that was feeling something for the first time in twenty years. "Do hurry! She's going to begin." "I can do that," said Mrs. Ruttle-Marter. "Her dance is called 'Love is blind.'" "Love is blind," repeated Lewis to Lady Derl. "Let's see what she makes of it." People did not note just when the music began. They suddenly realized it. It was so with Vi's dance. So gradually did her body sway into motion that somebody who had been staring at her from the moment she appeared whispered, "Why, she's dancing!" only when the first movement was nearing its close.