"I hadn't started to fill it—and then you came in," breathed Keith.
They were opposite the door leading into one of the numerous small rooms off the main floor of the armoury.
"Let's sit here—and you can get me a punch," she suggested.
He brought the punch, and she drank it slowly, leaning back in an easy chair. The place was dimly lighted, and her blond, full beauty was more effective than in the more brilliantly lighted ballroom. Mrs. Morrell exerted all her fascination. The next dance was half over before either Keith or—apparently—Mrs. Morrell became aware of the fact.
"Oh, you must run!" she cried, apparently greatly exercised. "Don't mind me; go and find your partner."
Keith replied, that he had this dance free, a fact of which her inspection of his card had perfectly informed her. In answer to his return solicitation as to her own partner, she shrugged her shoulders.
"Oh, he'll find me," she said indifferently. "This is very cozy here."
They resumed what had become an ardent flirtation. Toward the end of the dance Mrs. Morrell's partner came in, looking very flurried. Before he could say a word, Mrs. Morrell began reproachfully to chide him with lack of diligence.
"I've been waiting just rooted to this spot!" she said truthfully.
"Shall we dance?" suggested the unfortunate young man.