to Tiny, whose face
wore an inscrutable expression. Magdalena was about to step through the
window, but Trennahan guided her to the door, and they entered the room
without attracting attention. There were some forty people present. With
the exception of the Yorbas, everybody had house guests. Mrs. Yorba sat
in a corner with a small group of elderly ladies. Mr. Polk stood before
the fireplace in the parlour, his legs well apart, staring absently at
the young people, who looked gay and content.

"What am I to do?" asked Magdalena, helplessly.

"Nothing, just now, as there are no wall-flowers. In a moment one of
these youths will ask you to dance, and of course you will consent. It
is my misfortune that I no longer dance. I think your fate approaches."

A young man with a rather bright face came toward her. His name was
Payne. She had met him at the Montgomerys.

"May I have the pleasure of the first waltz, Miss Yorba?" he asked. "I
am told that it will be a unique pleasure,--that you can talk science
and waltz in the same breath, as it were."

He did not speak in sarcasm, merely in facetiousness. He was a type of
the fresh young San Franciscan whose ways are not as all ways. Magdalena
looked at him in sombre anger and made no reply. He saw that he had made
a mistake, and reddened, wondering why on earth she were in society at
all, if she could not be like other girls. Magdalena did not appreciate
his natural indignation; but she saw that he was miserable, and
relented.

"I will waltz with you if you wish," she said.

Mr. Payne bowed stiffly and offered his arm. They walked the length of
the two rooms in utter silence; then the musicians played the opening
bars of a waltz. Magdalena remembered that this would be her first waltz
with any man, barring the teacher who had solemnly piloted her up and
down the parlours in town. She had hoped much from her first dance; and
she was to have it with this silly overgrown boy. It was a minor
disappointment, but sharp while it lasted.

"Shall we begin?" he asked formally. He was sulky, and eager to have it
over. Two or three of his friends had flashed him glances of ironical
sympathy, and he was too young to bear ridicule with fortitude.

Ila was floating down the room with Alan Rush, a young South American,
as graceful of foot and bearing as herself. Magdalena forgot her partner
and gazed at them with genuine delight. She had read of the poetry of
motion, and this illustra