"I'll go and get it," he said, and just then the music started.
"No," said Becky, "never mind now. This is your dance with Mary—and she mustn't be kept waiting."
"Aren't you dancing this?"
"It is Truxton's, and I begged off. Run along, dear boy."
When he was gone she leaned over the rail. Below was a tangle of bushes, and the white gleam of a stone bench. Beyond the bushes was a path, and farther on a fountain. It was a rather imposing fountain, with a Neptune in bronze riding a sea
horse, with nymphs on dolphins in attendance. Neptune poured water from a shell which he held in his hand, and the dolphins spouted great streams. The splash of the water was a grateful sound in the stillness of the hot night, and the mist which the slight breeze blew towards a bed of tuberoses seemed to bring out their heavy fragrance. Always afterwards when Becky thought of that night, there would come to her again that heavy scent and the splash of streaming water.
"Becky," a voice came up from below, "I have your fan."
She peered down into the darkness, but did not speak.
"Becky, I am punished enough, and I am—starved for you——"
"Give me my fan——"