"We seem to have the floor to ourselves," Dexie said with a smile.
"If they knew the bliss of a perfect waltz, we would be crowded out, Miss Dexie. I begin to think I never waltzed before; your step is perfect—what, you are not tired?" as Dexie stopped and led the way back to the piano.
"No, but I will relieve Miss Chester; she is very fond of dancing."
Dexie did not care to confess how much she had enjoyed the little dance, but she was beginning to think that there was some strange spell in the voice and manner of her partner that drew her very thoughts from her. She must get away from his presence, so turned to Miss Chester, saying:
"I can recommend Mr. Traverse as a superb waltzer, Ada, so let me give you the pleasure of a few turns around the room with him to the same music. Mr. Traverse, do let Miss Chester know for once what waltzing really is," and she struck the keys and sent them floating from her side.
The evening's pleasure closed all too quickly, and as the last good-byes were spoken Guy lingered to whisper:
"I shall call and take you to choir practice in good season, so do not run away before I come for you. Good-night, Miss Dexie."
The warm clasp of the hand, and the earnest look in his dark grey eyes, lingered in Dexie's memory until sleep had put all thoughts aside and mixed the real with the unreal in troubled dreams.