What Dreams May Come | Page 8

was foolish
of me to break down here, but I could not help it. Besides, there is
another thing--I wish you would go away."
He walked to the end of the room, then returned and bent over her,
placing his hand on the back of the sofa. "Very well," he said, "I will go.
I should have gone before. I would have done so, but I hated to leave
you alone."
He lifted her face and kissed her. She laid her head against his shoulder,
then she suddenly pushed him from her with a low cry, and Dartmouth,
following her gaze, turned his head in time to meet the scornful eyes of

Miss Penrhyn as she dropped the portière from her hand. Dartmouth
kicked aside a footstool with an exclamation of anger. He was acutely
conscious of having been caught in a ridiculous position, and moreover,
he would not be the chief sufferer.
"Oh, Harold! Harold!" gasped Margaret, "I am ruined. You know what
women are. By this time to-morrow that girl will have told the story all
over Paris."
The words made Dartmouth forget his personal annoyance for the
moment. "Do not cry any more," he said, kindly; "I am awfully sorry,
but I will see what I can do. I will make a point of meeting the girl, and
I will see that--do not worry. I will go at once, and you had better
remain here for the present. There is no danger of anyone intruding
upon you: this room was never intended for three." He paused a
moment. "Good-bye, Margaret!" he said.
She started sharply, but rose to her feet and put out her hand:
"Good-bye," she said.
He lifted her hand to his lips, then the portière fell behind him and she
was alone.
He went directly to the ball-room and asked Hollington to present him
to Miss Penrhyn. She was standing with her back to him and did not
notice his approach, and his name was pronounced while her eyes were
still on the face of the man to whom she was talking. She gave him a
glance of swift scorn, bent her head haughtily, and all but turned her
back upon him. But Dartmouth, indolent and lazy as he was, was not
the man to be lightly disposed of when once roused to action.
"Bolton," he said, to her companion, "they are waiting for you in the
billiard-room; you have an engagement to play a game with our host at
twelve. It is now exactly the hour. I will take charge of Miss Penrhyn;"
and before the bewildered Bolton could protest, or Miss Penrhyn
realize his purpose, he had drawn the girl's arm through his own and
was half-way down the room.
"Where have I met you before?" he demanded, when they were safely
lost in the crowd. "Surely, we are not altogether strangers."
"I do not know," haughtily; "I have never met you before that I am
aware of."
"It is strange, but I cannot get rid of the idea that I have seen you
elsewhere," continued Dartmouth, unmoved. "And yet, if I had, I most

assuredly could not have forgotten it."
"You are flattering, but I must ask you to excuse me. I am engaged for
the next dance, and I see my partner looking for me."
"Indeed, I shall do nothing of the kind. I have no idea of resigning you
so lightly." And he calmly led her into a small withdrawing-room and
seated her behind a protecting screen. He took the chair beside her and
smiled down into her angry face. Her eyes, which had a peculiar yellow
flame in them, now within, now just without the iris, as if from a tiny
lantern hidden in their depths, were blazing.
"Well?" he said, calmly; "of what are you thinking?"
"That you are the rudest and the most impertinent man I have ever
met," she replied, hotly.
"You are unkind; I have been unfortunate enough to incur your
disapproval, but you judge me cruelly. I am undoubtedly a very
reprehensible character, Miss Penrhyn, but I don't think that I am worse
than most men." He recognized at once that it would be folly to tell the
usual lie: she would simply laugh in his face. He must accept the
situation, plead guilty and make a skilful defense. Later, when he had
established himself in her confidence, he would exonerate his cousin.
Miss Penrhyn's lip curled disdainfully. "I am not aware that I have
asked you to justify yourself," she said. "It is of no possible interest to
me whether you are better or worse than most men. It is quite possible,
however," she added, hastily and unwillingly, "that in this case, as in
others, there may be the relief of an exception to