“Now, tell me what it was.”
“Miss D’Alloi, I know you do not mean it,” said Peter, “but you are paining me greatly. There is nothing in my whole life so bitter to me as what you ask me to tell.”
“Oh, Peter,” said Leonore, “I beg your pardon. I was very thoughtless!”
“And you don’t think the worse of me, because I loved your mother, and because I can’t tell you?” said Peter, in a dangerous tone.
“No,” said Leonore, but she rose. “Now we’ll go back to the dancing.”
“One moment,” begged Peter.
But Leonore was already in the full light blazing from the room. “Are you coming?” she said.
“May I have this waltz?” said Peter, trying to get half a loaf.
“No,” said Leonore, “it’s promised to Mr. Rutgers.”
Just then mine host came up and said. “I congratulate you, Mr. Stirling.”