anity that he did
not divine it or take it for granted. She resolved then and there to
show him how she could dance, and as she decided this, a subtle, wicked
smile crept about her lips. Since he was so sure that he would never
return to the world, the world should come to him.

"But you haven't said yet that you would dance for us," he said.

"Yes," the same smile still lingering in her eyes and on her lips, "yes,
I will. The camp have sent half a dozen invitations for me to do so,
through Hughie. They have a dance once a week in the town hall, don't
they? When is the next one?"

"I think I heard Hughie say next Thursday night. He always helps out
the orchestra when he is here, doesn't he?"

Next Thursday night! Her eyes widened. That was the evening of the day
that Rudolf was coming. Perhaps--perhaps, he would stay over and see
her, it was not much of a risk he would be taking in doing so. Her
father would not go down to see her dance, he would prefer to sit over
his cards with Jose, and no one else knew Hanson. Oh, what a prospect!
She almost clapped her hands with joy.

The wind sent a shower of pine needles over them, and Seagreave looked
up, scanning the sky with a keen glance. "It will soon be time for the
snow to fly," he said.

She looked at him incredulously. "Why, it is mild as summer."

"Yes, but this is October, and October in the mountains. Perhaps in only
a few days now the ground will all be covered with snow."

"I hope I shall be away before that time," shivering a little.

"But think what you will miss. Think how beautiful it will be; all
still, just a great, white silence; the snow with its wonderful shadows,
and sometimes, when the air is very clear, I seem to hear the chiming of
great bells."

She shivered again and rose. "I don't believe I'd like it," she said. "I
think it would frighten me."

He walked down the hill with her to Gallito's cabin, but on their way
they spoke little. Her mind was full of Hanson's coming, and of the
revelation of dancing which she meant to show him and, incidentally,
Saint Harry. It was not until later in the day that she remembered how
impersonal, according to her standards, her conversation with Seagreave
had been. Not once, either by word or look had he told her that she was
beautiful and to be desired. A new experience for her; never before had
she encountered such an attitude in any man. It must be, therefore, that
there was some other woman in his li