Will you play the pas de l'ombre once more?" he asked her abruptly, as she crossed the room as though to sit by the fire.
"Have you no ear? Or are you making fun of me?"
"Neither the one nor the other."
"Then don't ask me to play. I can't play, and it only irritates me."
She sat down near the fire, and took a hand screen to shade her face from the blaze.
"Do you know," said Guy Chevis suddenly, "I have often imagined this meeting between us, and it never once occurred to me that you would seem, in your own house, as pale and as strange as you appear when you are dancing."
"Have you seen me dance often?"
Only in one ballet, but in that half a dozen times."
"And you have never tried to meet me before?"
"No," he said.
I am not so difficult to find, you know."
"That's what they told me."
"I suppose you are poor, and couldn't entertain me, and feit embarrassed for that reason?"
"Oh, no," he answered, staring at her with his clear blue eyes, "that wasn't it—I'm not poor. I'm twenty-two, and came into my money a year ago. I am living here now to study French. Soon, in a few months, I shall go home, to England. That wasn't the reason at all."
"Then what? I suppose you are in love alreadv?"
"Then I don't understand."