“Oh, I will stop here. The dance is just over.”
He moved off awkwardly; she stood there white and straight, and never moving.
At her feet lay her own chrysanthemums, crushed by Reuben’s departing feet.
She picked them up and flung them into the street.
At the same moment a voice sounded at her elbow:
“I have found you at last.”
“Is this our dance, Mr. Lee-Harrison?”
CHAPTER XIII.
We did not dream, my heart, and yet
With what a pang we woke at last.
A. Mary F. Robinson.
Rose, with a candle in her hand, stood at the top of the stairs and yawned.