He caught fire at her emotion; her palm was burning in his, her breath came irregularly, lips and cheeks were aflame, as they came to a breathless halt in the torchlight.
"Dear," she faltered, "I simply must be decent to my guests.... I'm dying to dance with you again, but I can't be so rude.... Oh, goodness! here they come, hordes of them. I'll give them a dance or two—anybody who speaks first, and then you'll come and find me, won't you?... Isn't that enough to give them—two or three dances? Isn't that doing my duty as chatelaine sufficiently?"
"Don't give them any," he said with conviction. "They'll know we're engaged if you don't——"
"Oh, Duane! We are only—only provisionally engaged," she said. "I am only on probation, dear. You know it can't be announced until I—I'm fit to marry you——"
"What nonsense!" he interrupted, almost savagely. "You're winning out; and even if you are not, I'll marry you, anyway, and make you win!"
"We have talked that over——"
"Yes, and it is settled!"
"No, Duane——"
"I tell you it is!"
"No. Hush! Somebody might overhear us. Quick, dear, here comes Bunny and Reggie Wye and Peter Tappan, all mad as hatters. I've behaved abominably to them! Will you find me after the third dance? Very well; tell me you love me then—whisper it, quick!... Ah-h! Moi aussi, Monsieur. And, remember, after the third dance!"