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She hesitated.

"Please let me say good night," he persisted.

"Very well, on condition that you bring that candle with you, and that you stay only for five minutes."

He followed her into the bedroom, which was dark, save for the dying glow of her fire, that cast a dull flicker upon the rich heavy furniture and upon the great bed with its canopy of striped buff-and-blue silk.

"So this," he said, holding the candle above his head, "is the secret bower of the Naiad!"

"Well, what did you expect? A grotto, at the bottom of the sea?"

"Almost, perhaps. Teil me, why have you never loved any one before?"

"Because, if you must know, Mr. Guy Chevis, and you will probaby be discouraged when I do teil you, I am not the sort of woman who falls in love. They teil me that I am cold, calculating, and that I think of nothing but my dancing. I believe all that to be quite true. I haven't the temperament of an amoureuse."

"And yet," he continued, still holding the candle above his head so that his fair hair was turned to gold, "and yet you say that you loved me from the first moment I came into the room to-night. Isn't that true?"

She stared at him for a moment, then averted her eyes and shook her head, swallowing, as if there was a great lump in her throat.

He came a step nearer.

"Isn't that true, Lina? Don't you love me?"

He came nearer still, knelt down, thrust the candle close to her white face.

"Isn't that true, beautiful Lina?"

"Yes," she capitulated once more, "you know it is. Of course it's true. When you first came into the room to-night I feit as though my heart were being dragged