"Shall I tell you?"
"Not here, for mercy's sake! Don't give me away in respectable society, please. Come out in the hall where we won't be eavesdropped."
She took his arm energetically and romped him out to the staircase. The masks and costumes had let loose all her folly. She effervesced in giggles.
"Let's go up-stairs in the library," she proposed. "We have the run of the house to-night, and nobody'll be there. I want to see if I can't guess who you are. I haven't the least idea who you are, but I believe you're going to be nice."
She tapped him on the cheek playfully with her fan, then picked up her skirts and ran up-stairs, giving him a glance of red silk hose, as she went. He was still quivering with the excitement of Clytie's smile, still warm from her nearness, still full of her, though he would not share her wholesale glances to her throng of admirers. He was still rapt with the exhilaration her smile had kindled, he still held her little perfumed heart. As he followed Mrs. Page up-stairs he smelt again of the gold bottle. The fragrant odor fired him anew. He grew perfervid.
Mrs. Page, unmasked, was awaiting him in the library.
When they came down ten minutes later, he made way to where Clytie sat, talking to the gentleman with the reddish pointed beard and plum-colored garments. Seeing Granthope approach, she turned to her companion, saying:
"Would you mind getting me a glass of water, Blanchard? This mask is fearfully warm. I hope we won't have to keep them on much longer."
Cayley left to obey her and Granthope took his place by her chair. She looked up at him quickly, and said, in a low voice:
"I think you had better give me back my scent-bottle, please."