flying feet.

The woman was dancing.

"She calls that dance 'Morning on the Moor,'" Cope told Becky; "she has a
lot of them--'The Spirit of the Storm,' 'The Wraith of the Fog.'"

"Do you know her?"

"No. But Tristram says she dances every morning. She is getting ready
for an act in one of the big musical shows."

The man sat on the ground and watched the woman dance. Her primrose cape
was across his knee. He was a big man and wore a cap. Becky, surveying
him from afar, saw nothing to command closer scrutiny. Yet had she
known, she might have found him worthy of another look. For the man with
the primrose cape was Dalton!

III

George Dalton, entering the little sitting-room of "The Whistling Sally,"
had to bend his head. He was so shining and splendid that he seemed to
fill the empty spaces. It seemed, indeed, to Becky, as if he were too
shining and splendid, as if he bulked too big, like a giant, top-heavy.

But she was not unmoved. He had been the radiant knight of her girlish
dreams--some of the glamour still remained. Her cheeks were touched with
pink as she greeted him.

He took both of her hands in his. "Oh, you lovely, lovely little thing,"
he said, and stood looking down at her.

They were the words he had said to her in the music-room. They revived
memories. Flushing a deeper pink, she drew away from him. "Why did you
come?"

"I could not stay away."

"How long have you been here?"

"Five days----"

"Please--sit down"--she indicated a chair on the other side of the
hearth. She had seated herself in the Admiral's winged chair. It came
up over her head, and she looked very slight and childish.

George, surveying the room, said, "This is some contrast to Huntersfield."

"Yes."

"Do you like it?"

"Oh, yes. I have spent months here, you know, and Sally, who whistles
out there in the yard, is an old friend of mine. I played with her as a
child."

"I should think the Admiral would rather have one of those big houses on
the bluff."

"Would you?"

"Yes."

"But he has so many big houses. And this is his play-house. It belonged
to his grandfather, and that ship up there is one on which our Sally was
the figure-head."

He forced himself to listen while she told him something of the history
of the old ship. He knew that she was making conversation, that there
were things more important to speak of, and that she knew it. Yet she
was putting off the moment when they