Without moving, Helen lifted her eyes to Irving and met his gloomy regard.
“I doubt if Miss Maynard cares to ascend a perpendicular corduroy road,” he answered. “I’m told it is eight stories up.”
“You might ask her,” remarked the girl herself, with composure.
“Surely,” laughed Mrs. Bruce. “It would be such a simple way of finding out.”
Irving had not the grace to smile. He continued to regard the humble companion of yesterday, the heiress of to-day, without moving.
“Would you?” he asked sententiously.
“Yes,” she replied promptly, and rose.
The proposition was so foreign to Bruce’s mood that it required a noticeable moment for him to pull himself together sufficiently to join the young lady with tolerable grace.
She gave him a comprehending glance as they moved toward the staircase.
“Probably all your life,” she said slowly, “you have done just what you liked. I have never done anything I liked. I am beginning to-night.”