admiration were her
birthright--she was more beautiful than even Winton had thought her. At
her breast she wore some sprigs of yellow jasmine procured by him from
town--a flower of whose scent she was very fond, and that he had never
seen worn in ballrooms. That swaying, delicate creature, warmed by
excitement, reminded him, in every movement and by every glance of her
eyes, of her whom he had first met at just such a ball as this. And by
the carriage of his head, the twist of his little moustache, he conveyed
to the world the pride he was feeling.

That evening held many sensations for Gyp--some delightful, one confused,
one unpleasant. She revelled in her success. Admiration was very dear
to her. She passionately enjoyed dancing, loved feeling that she was
dancing well and giving pleasure. But, twice over, she sent away her
partners, smitten with compassion for her little governess sitting there
against the wall--all alone, with no one to take notice of her, because
she was elderly, and roundabout, poor darling! And, to that loyal
person's horror, she insisted on sitting beside her all through two
dances. Nor would she go in to supper with anyone but Winton. Returning
to the ballroom on his arm, she overheard an elderly woman say: "Oh,
don't you know? Of course he really IS her father!" and an elderly man
answer: "Ah, that accounts for it--quite so!" With those eyes at the
back of the head which the very sensitive possess, she could see their
inquisitive, cold, slightly malicious glances, and knew they were
speaking of her. And just then her partner came for her.

"Really IS her father!" The words meant TOO much to be grasped this
evening of full sensations. They left a little bruise somewhere, but
softened and anointed, just a sense of confusion at the back of her mind.
And very soon came that other sensation, so disillusioning, that all else
was crowded out. It was after a dance--a splendid dance with a
good-looking man quite twice her age. They were sitting behind some
palms, he murmuring in his mellow, flown voice admiration for her dress,
when suddenly he bent his flushed face and kissed her bare arm above the
elbow. If he had hit her he could not have astonished or hurt her more.
It seemed to her innocence that he would never have done such a thing if
she had not said something dreadful to encourage him. Without a word she
got up, gazed at him a moment with eyes dark from pain, shivered, and