She was like wax in his strong arms. "Oh, how dare you." She was cold with auger. "I want to stop."
"And I could dance forever. That's the irony of it—that I cannot make you. But if I had Drake's money, I'd make you."
"Do you think it is his money?"
"Perhaps not. But the world will think it."
"If—if he wanted me, I'd marry him if he were a beggar in the streets."
"Has it gone as far as that? But you wouldn't marry a beggar. A troubadour beneath your balcony, yes. But not a beggar. You'd want him silken and blond and singing, and staying at home while other men fought—"
She stopped at once. "If you knew what you were talking about; I'd never speak to you again. But because I was fool enough once to believe that Derry Drake was a coward, I am going to forgive you. But I shall not dance with you again; ever—"
Making her way back alone to the box, she saw with a throb of relief that her father had joined Emily and Marion Gray.
He uttered a quick exclamation as she came up. "What's the matter, daughter?"
Her throat was dry. "I can't tell you now—there are too many people. It was Ralph. I hate him, Daddy."