"Isn't it enough?"

"Not quite. You were going to say something. I saw it in your eyes."

"You saw that I admired you."

"Yes, but a man mustn't admire a man."

"I suppose I had an idea you were a woman."

"What! when I had the heels of my boots raised half an inch," Sir Julius
turned one heel, and volleyed out silver laughter.

"I don't come much above your shoulder even now," she said, and proceeded
to measure her height beside him with arch up-glances.

"You must grow more."

"'Fraid I can't, Dick! Bootmakers can't do it."

"I'll show you how," and he lifted Sir Julius lightly, and bore the fair
gentleman to the looking-glass, holding him there exactly on a level with
his head. "Will that do?"

"Yes! Oh but I can't stay here."

"Why can't you?"

"Why can't I?"

He should have known then--it was thundered at a closed door in him, that
he played with fire. But the door being closed, he thought himself
internally secure.

Their eyes met. He put her down instantly.

Sir Julius, charming as he was, lost his vogue. Seeing that, the wily
woman resumed her shell. The memory, of Sir Julius breathing about her
still, doubled the feminine attraction.

"I ought to have been an actress," she said.

Richard told her he found all natural women had a similar wish.

"Yes! Ah! then! if I had been!" sighed Mrs. Mount, gazing on the pattern
of the carpet.

He took her hand, and pressed it.

"You are not happy as you are?"

"No."

"May I speak to you?"

"Yes."

Her nearest eye, setting a dimple of her cheek in motion, slid to the
corner toward her ear, as she sat with her head sideways to him,
listening. When he had gone, she said to herself: "Old hypocrites talk in
that way; but I never heard of a young man doing it, and not making love
at the same time."

Their next meeting displayed her quieter: subdued as one who had been set
thinking. He lauded her fair looks.

"Don't make me thrice ashamed," she petitioned.

But it was not only that mood with her. Dauntless defiance, that
splendidly befitted her gallant outline and gave a wildness to her bright
bold eyes, when she would call out: "Happy? who dares say I'm not happy?
D'you think if the world whips me I'll wince? D'you think I care for what
they say or do? Let them kill me! they shall never get one cry out of
me!" and flashing on the young man as if he were the congregated enemy,
add: "There! now you know me!"--that was a mood that well became he