"The Milan."
"I am at the Albany. So-long! Must get back to my little lady."
He bowed to Sophy and departed. She sank a little breathlessly into her chair and laid her hand on John's arm. Her cheeks were flushed, her bosom was rising and falling quickly.
"I am out of breath," she said, her head thrown back, perilously near to John's shoulder. "Lord Amerton dances so well. Give me some champagne!"
"And you—you dance divinely," he told her, as he filled her glass.
"If we were alone," she whispered, "I should want you to kiss me!"
The stem of the wine-glass in John's fingers snapped suddenly, and the wine trickled down to the floor. A passing waiter hurried up with a napkin, and a fresh glass was brought. The affair was scarcely noticed, but John remained disturbed and a little pale.
"Have you cut your hand?" Sophy asked anxiously.
"Not at all," he assured her. "How hot it is here! Do you mind if we go?"
"Go?" she exclaimed disconsolately. "I thought you were enjoying yourself so much!"