"You have no idea what a naval officer can be when he takes to match-making. I shall have to fight this out some day with him."
"No; allow me," said Roscoria.
"If you dare; but—this is after supper."
("Oh, how can you?") expostulated the lover.
Then, being a serious maiden, who knew what she was doing, Lyndis pressed his hand and quietly, but finally, spoke:
"Mr. Roscoria, go home and think it over."
She had stepped into the brilliant light of the ballroom, and vanished from his sight. Roscoria went home as in a dream. A shifting picture was before him—in front, smiling scenes of bliss and love; in the background, Nemesis, in the garb of a naval officer.
[VI.]
THE ADMIRAL IS SQUARED.