She moved a pace forward.
“Oh, Jack,” she whispered, leaning toward him and breathing quickly, “it was so like the old, the dear old days.”
Into Maitland's eyes there flashed a look of surprise, of wonder, then of piercing scrutiny, while his face grew white.
“Adrien,” he said, in a voice low, tense, almost stern, which she alone heard. “What do you mean? Then do you—”
“Oh, Captain Jack,” cried Patricia, catching his arm, “are you going to dance? You are, aren't you? And will you give me—Oh, I daren't ask! You are such a great hero to-night!”
“Why, Patsy, will you give me a dance?”
The girl stood gazing at him with eyes that grew misty, the quick beating of her loyal heart almost suffocating her.
“Oh, Captain Jack,” she gasped, “how many?”
Maitland laughed at her, and turned to her sister.
“And you, Adrien, may I have a dance?”