"Very much."
She was panting, eager. I felt my heart sink, and dreaded lest I should betray my feelings.
"You do not honour me, then, with your regard," I retorted, bowing ceremoniously as I became assured that we were attracting more attention than I considered desirable.
She was silent. Her hand went again to her hair.
I changed my tone. Quietly, but with an emphasis which moved her in spite of herself, I whispered: "If I leave you now, will you tell me to-morrow why you are so peremptory with me to-night?"
With an eagerness which was anything but encouraging, she answered, almost gaily:
"Yes, yes, after all this excitement is over."
And slipping her hand into that of a friend who was passing, she was soon in the whirl again and dancing—she who had just assured me that she did not mean to dance again that night.