"She is a good friend and a good foe," said the editor. "Better go and offer a pinch of incense to Diana. She is worth cultivating. You ought to see her dance."
Keith, however, had made his decision. A girl with eyes like dewy violets was his Diana, and to her his incense was offered.
A day or two later Keith was passing down the main street, when he saw the young woman crossing over at the corner ahead of him, stepping from one stone to another quite daintily. She was holding up her skirt, and showed a very neat pair of feet in perfectly fitting boots. At the crossing she stopped. As Keith passed her, he glanced at her, and caught her eye fastened on him. She did not look away at all, and Keith inclined his head in recognition of their former meeting.
"Good morning," she said.
"Good morning." Keith lifted his hat and was passing on.
"Why haven't you been to see me?" she demanded.
Keith pretended not to hear.
"I thought I invited you to come and see me?"
Still, Keith did not answer, but he paused. His head was averted, and he was waiting until she ceased speaking to go on.
Suddenly, to his surprise, she bounded in front of him and squared her straight figure right before him.