"Indeed I should! Unless"—he tried for a light tone—"there's some special reason for it, such as that you don't want to give it to me."
"Oh, I want to terribly. But I'm in such a mix-up and that dance would straighten me out ... I thought perhaps you'd wait and take me home. I'm going quite early; about three. Will you?"
"Yes."
"We'll walk through the lawns; it's only three minutes. Watch out for my signal."
She was giving him orders as one with a proprietary claim. Scott thrilled to it. He would not let himself think to what it was leading. His mind was absorbed in the delight of her, that dark radiance of personality, the sweet compulsion of her charm. He would have waited all night, though a little time before he had thought himself beginning to be bored. It did not seem long when he saw her coming toward him, her wrap over her arm.
"Quick!" she directed. "Or there'll be a howl about my leaving. I'm not even going to say good-night."
Then they were in the autumn-spiced darkness together, her arm linked in his. It seemed quite natural that her fingers should slip into and twine themselves about his palm.
"Isn't it a grand little world!" she chuckled softly. "I've had such fun to-night."
"You're a wonderful little Pat," he replied unsteadily.
"D'you really think I'm wonderful? Sometimes I think so myself. Other times"—she hunched her shoulders in a gesture peculiar to her—"I think I'm just like everyone else."