"You mean——"
"Love!"
"Is there such a thing?" says Monica, wistfully, whereupon Mr. Kelly says to himself, "Now, what on earth has that fellow been doing to her?" but aloud he says, in his usual subdued tones,—
"I don't know, I'm sure, but they say so, and perhaps they, whoever they may be, are right. If so, I think it is a dangerous subject to discuss with you. Let us skip it, and go on. You haven't told me why you are not dancing with Desmond."
"Why should I dance with Mr. Desmond?"
"Because it is not always easy to have a refusal ready, perhaps, or——He has asked you?"
She would have given a good deal at this instant to be able to answer "No;" but the remembrance of how he pleaded with her for one waltz that evening at the end of the Moyne meadow comes between her and her desire. So she says, "Yes," instead.
"And you would none of him?"
"No."
"It isn't my part to ask why," says Kelly, with quite a miserable air; "but still I cannot help wondering how any one can dislike Desmond."