"Won't—what?" he asked.
"Stay—long."
He rapidly made his way from the third into the fourth Heaven. She watched him.
"No, indeed," he said under his breath.
She lingered, fascinated by her own peril. Could she get him away at once?
"I—I wonder, Mr. Seabury, what you would think if I—if I suggested that you smoke—smoke—on the stairs—now—with me?"
He hastily scrambled out of the fourth Heaven into the fifth. She saw him do it.
"I'd rather smoke there than anywhere in the world——"
"Quick, then! Saunter over to the door—stroll about a little first—no, don't do even that!—I—I mean—you'd better hurry. Please!" She cast a rapid look about her; she could not linger another moment. Then, concentrating all the sweetness and audacity in her, and turning to him, she gave him one last look. It was sufficient to send him in one wild, flying leap from the fifth Heaven plump into the sixth. The sixth Heaven was on the stairs; and his legs carried him thither at a slow and indifferent saunter, though it required every scrap of his self-control to prevent his legs from breaking into a triumphant trot. Yet all the while that odd smile flickered, went out, and flickered in his eyes.