Mollie's wicked heart smote her. She liked this handsome young artist more than she was aware of, and the first twinge of remorse for her merciless coquetry filled her mind.
But it was too late to pause in her mischief-making, and the fun ahead was too tempting.
"Speak, Miss Dane," Mr. Ingelow implored: "for pity's sake, don't say you have led me on only to jilt me in cold blood at the last!"
"Rather strong language, Mr. Ingelow," said Mollie, coolly pulling to pieces a rose. "I have not led you on, have I? I have been friendly with you because I liked you—as I have been with a dozen others."
"Then I am to consider myself rejected, Miss Dane?"
He stood up before her, very white, with eyes of unspeakable reproach.
"What a hurry you are in!" said Mollie, pettishly. "Give me until to-morrow. I will think it over. Between twelve and one I will be at home; come then and you shall have your answer. There! let us go back to the ball-room. I have promised this redowa to Mr. Sardonyx."
Mr. Ingelow, in profound silence, led Miss Dane back to the ball-room, where they found the elegant lawyer searching for his partner.
"I thought you had forgotten me, Miss Dane," he said, taking her off at once.
"Impossible, Mr. Sardonyx," laughed Mollie. "So sorry to have kept you waiting; but better late than never."