"Ah, thank you. You have no idea, I suppose, what her dress is to be?"
"Kitty gave me to understand, very quietly, that she would wear a rose-colored domino."
"There is a rose-colored domino just entering; do you imagine that is the fair fiancée?"
"Very possibly," said my companion.
"She is going to dance. Is that Phil with her?"
Phil at this moment asked my partner to be his vis-à-vis, so we were again drawn into the dance. By this time, half the people in the room thought I was Miss Churchill, and addressed me accordingly. In one of the pauses of the quadrille, as some one calling me by that name had turned away, the black domino, who stood a little behind me on my left, leaned forward and whispered:
"You cannot deceive me; it was not Miss Churchill who was to have a blue ribbon on her tassel."
I started; what intrigue was that Kitty about?
The dance was over; Phil and his partner left the room and turned toward the piazza.
"Shall we go into the fresh air?" said my companion, following them with his eyes. I took his arm, and we went on the piazza. The soft light of the colored lamps, the mellow music floating out to us, the cool air in our faces—I met with a gasp of relief and pleasure. Leading me to a seat rather more secluded than the others, my companion threw himself on the sofa beside me, and exclaimed, removing his mask: