Nita thought carelessly that it was one of her many lovers come to lay heart and hand and fortune at her feet, and get the same answer she had given others:
"I have no love to give."
She had a tender heart, but it vexed her when men wooed her.
"I am no coquette. I do not encourage them. Why will they not leave me alone?" she thought impatiently.
And it was on her lips to decline to see the caller. The next moment she reflected that if she declined to-night he would come again to-morrow. The unpleasant moment was only deferred.
"I will go, I will have it over!" she exclaimed, and took up her bouquet.
"I will pretend that I am in a great hurry to start to the ball," she thought.
As she entered the parlor a man stood at an open window, breathing in the sweetness of the fair spring night. As Nita softly closed the door he came forward into the light, and stood revealed, tall, fair, handsome—Dorian Mountcastle!
A thrilling heart-cry escaped from Nita's lips:
"Dorian!"