"Oh, I fancy, sir, she could have had your kiss without accepting you.
She needed only to give you half a chance."
"I think," said I, "even less than half a chance from you, dear, would
have been successful."
She studied her fan a moment. "From me, _only_?" she asked.
"From you, only," I said. "It would require a trifle more than half a
chance from anyone else."
"Even from the Lady Helen Radnor?" she asked.
I watched her face a moment. There was, I felt, only one way to play
this out.
"Well," I answered, "it might be that an even half chance would suffice
from her."
"It took rather less than that at the Birthday Ball, didn't it?"
I had the grace to keep silent--or, maybe, I was too surprised to know
an answer. I did not have the courage to meet her eyes. I stared into
the audience, seeing no one, thinking much--hoping she would speak; but
she did not.
Presently I turned, looking like a whipped child, I know, and met
Dehra's smiling face.
"Tie my slipper, dear," she said, "the ribbon has come undone."
"You sweetheart!" I said. "You sweetheart!"
She drew her gown back from the footstool, and I slowly tightened the
silken bands over the high-arched instep--very slowly, I confess.
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