"Well," I answered, "it might be that an even half chance would suffice from her."
"It took rather less than that at the Birthday Ball, didn't it?"
I had the grace to keep silent—or, maybe, I was too surprised to know an answer. I did not have the courage to meet her eyes. I stared into the audience, seeing no one, thinking much—hoping she would speak; but she did not.
Presently I turned, looking like a whipped child, I know, and met Dehra's smiling face.
"Tie my slipper, dear," she said, "the ribbon has come undone."
"You sweetheart!" I said. "You sweetheart!"
She drew her gown back from the footstool, and I slowly tightened the silken bands over the high-arched instep—very slowly, I confess.
"You're very naughty, Armand," she said, shaking her head in mock reproof.
"Doesn't the other shoe need fastening?" I asked.
"No, sir—and, if it did, I would have the Countess tie it."