“I suppose you have been in your Southern home, Mr. Mapleson,” she said. “I should think you would hardly like to leave its genial climate for our rigorous winter here.”
“There are sometimes stronger attractions than a genial climate in winter,” he replied, with an earnest look into her lovely eyes.
“Yes, New York is very attractive just now,” she returned, determined not to appropriate his significant remark to herself, “Do you remain here long?”
“I think I may stay through this month,” he answered, with an emphasis upon the last two words that brought the quick blood again to her cheeks, for she knew that he was thinking of her approaching marriage.
Still, she was willfully obtuse.
“What!” she exclaimed, archly. “Can you content yourself away from home during the holidays?”
“Yes—at least for this year. Miss Huntress, will you give my name a place upon your dancing-list?” he asked, glancing at the card that was suspended by a silken cord from her corsage.
Gladys opened and held it up before him, with a smile.
It was full, and she was glad it happened so.
His face fell, for his quick glance detected Geoffrey’s name against several dances.