She did not answer; but a slight pressure of her bare arm set him in motion again.
The phenomenon interested her; to see what control over this abrupt young man she really had she ventured a very slight retrograde arm-pressure, then a delicate touch to right, to left, and forward once more. It was most interesting; he backed up, guided right and left, and started forward or halted under perfect control. What had she been afraid of in him? She ventured to glance around, and, encountering a warmly personal interest in his gaze, instantly assumed that cold, blank, virginal mask which the majority of young girls discard at her age.
However, her long-checked growth in the arts of womanhood had already recommenced. She had been growing fast, feverishly, and was just now passing that period where the desire for masculine admiration innocently rules all else, but where the discovery of it chills and constrains.
She passed it at that moment. The next time their glances met she smiled a little. A new epoch in her life had begun.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked. "Are we not going to dance?"
"I thought we might sit out a dance or two in the conservatory—one or two——"
"One," she said decidedly. "Here are some palms. Why not sit here?"
There were a number of people about; she saw them, too, noted his hesitation, understood it.
"We'll sit here," she said, and stood smilingly regarding him while he lugged up two chairs to the most retired corner.
Slowly waving her fan, she seated herself and surveyed the room.