"Do you understand that I am in love with you, Steve?"
"Let me go, Jim——"
"Do you?"
"Don't kiss me—that way——"
"Do you believe me?"
"I don't want to!——" Suddenly she turned terribly white in his arms, swayed a moment against him. He released her, steadied her; she passed one arm through his, leaning heavily on him.
"Are you faint, Steve?" he whispered.
"A—little. It's nothing. The air here is stifling.... I'm tired." ... She dropped her head against his shoulder. Her lids were half closed as they descended the steps, he guiding her.
It seemed to her an interminable descent. She felt as though she were falling through space into a glittering, roaring abyss. In their box sat Helen and Grayson, gossiping gaily together and waiting for another dance to begin. Cleland warned Stephanie in a whisper, and she lifted her head and straightened up with an effort.
She said mechanically: