She looked up at me with tears in her eyes when she answered,—
"Georges would never forgive me."
"Could you make no excuse to remain at home?"
"Oh, don't ask me to do that," she exclaimed pitifully, "I have lived for the ball since the beginning of the year!"
It was a woman's plea, and not to be resisted. I saw at once that she would go to the dance whatever words fell from me, and I turned from the subject to one more important.
"Since you are determined to be there to night," said I, "perhaps you will give me Monsieur Georges Barré's address?"
"Oh, for the love of God, don't tell him!" she cried; "he would never forgive me if I distrusted his present."
"My dear lady, I quite understand that. Really, you credit me with being a very poor diplomatist. When I see him I doubt if I shall even mention your name to him."
"You promise me that?"
"I promise you, at least, that he shall never know of your coming to me. But I must exact another promise from you—it is that you will not wear the topaz until you have my permission."