In the doorway were gathered people
from the parlours.
"Are they looking at us? We must stop," I whispered.
"Looking at you, not us. But don't stop; not yet--Helen!"
"Helen!" He had called my name! My eyes must have shown with bliss and
terror. I had an almost overmastering desire to whisper his name also, to
answer the entreaty of his voice, the clasp of his fingers. But I forced
myself to remember how many eyes were watching.
"I--we must stop," I said.
"Not yet; unless--we shall dance together again?"
I scarcely heard the "yes" I breathed. I shouldn't have known what I had
said but for the sudden light in his eyes, the firmer pressure of his arm.
My feet didn't seem to touch the floor, as he gently constrained me when I
would have ceased to dance, and kept me circling round with him until we
came opposite my seat; then he put me into it as naturally as if I had
been tired.
Tired! Our faces told--they must have told our story. But the others were
blind--blind! John had risen as if to meet us, but if he took note at all
of my flushed face, he doubtless thought me frightened.
It was exultation, not fright.
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