“I believe,” he said, “that you’re afraid to dance with me!”
On an impulse she answered him with perfect candour.
“I believe I am.”
“Then why did you promise? You did promise, you know.”
“I know. I promised. I promised because Coppertop had croup and they had telephoned down for his mother to go to him. And you wouldn’t accompany me unless I gave you this dance. So I promised it.”
Davilof’s eyes held a curiously concentrated expression.
“And you did this so that Mrs. Grey could go to her little boy—to nurse him?”
Magda inclined her head.
“Yes,” she said simply.
“But you hated asking me—loathed it!”