She really laughed this time; and I vaguely recalled pearls and coral and murmuring brooks.
"Won't you please do that again?" I asked eagerly.
But there must have been something in my gaze that frightened Mirth away, for she frowned.
Faintly came the music from the ball-room. They were playing the waltzes from The Queen's Lace Handkerchief. The agony of an extemporization seized me.
"Strauss!" I cried, flourishing the slipper. "The blue Danube, the moonshine on the water, the tittle-tattle of the leaves, a man and woman all, all alone! Romance, love, off to the wars!..."
"It is a far cry to Cinderella," she interrupted.
"Ah, yes. Music moves me so easily."
"Indeed! It is scarcely noticeable,"—slyly.
"Are you Cinderella, then?"
"I do not say so."