f a man, what sort of a woman? Do
you, can you, by any possible chance, belong to _me_?"

The modern young man and maiden may indignantly deny that such a
feeling, conscious or unconscious, has any bearing on their social joys.
Vanna belonged to an age far more frankly sentimental than to-day, but
she also protested, and felt humiliated when convicted against her will.
Yet what shame can there be in the acknowledgment of a natural magnetic
force? Empty a ballroom of all except relations within the prescribed
calendar, set a man to dance with his sisters and aunts, a girl with her
brothers and uncles--would any one of the number dare to maintain that
enjoyment continued in the same ratio?

Vanna was fond of dancing, but not to the same extent as Jean, who often
declared that she would waltz with a clothes-prop sooner than not waltz
at all. With Vanna the enjoyment of movement was always subservient to
the mental pleasure of meeting and talking to new partners. She
preferred a good conversationalist to a good waltzer, but this evening
the ordinary topics of the ballroom seemed painfully lacking in savour;
she could feel in them no interest, no merriment, no curiosity; her
partner's words seemed to float past, a dull, wearisome echo that had no
meaning in her ears. She was as one who had returned home after long
wandering in a foreign land, to find herself helplessly out of her
element. She looked at the gay stream of dancers as across a gulf. Two
days ago she had been one of themselves, as carelessly happy, as
confidently gay; now, after the passage of a few short hours, she stood
apart, conscious through all her nature that she had outgrown a stage;
had passed on, and left her friends behind.

Vanna's partners were at a loss to understand her dullness and lack of
response, for she had the reputation of wit and charm. Failing in their
efforts to excite her interest, they shortened the time of waiting
between the dances, by leading her back to the ballroom, and hastening
off in search of a livelier companion. She saw through their devices,
and smiled to herself with dreary amusement. "This is no place for you,
my dear. You must give up these frivolities. You have to fill a gap
and discover a solace. You'll never find it in a ballroom."

At twelve o'clock supper was in full swing in the big dining-room of the
house. In the seventies, hosts had not acquired the present-day
convenient, if less hospitable habi