and secretly congratulating himself upon his progress. In
imagination, he experienced all the intoxication of the dance, and Dora
in his arms, resting heavily upon him. In imagination, he was drawing her
closer and closer, her eyes looking into his, and her breath upon his
cheek.

He started up and faced her, watching the slender hands gliding over the
keys, as if he could keep away no longer; then, he strolled over and
stood behind her, ostensibly watching the music. She felt his presence
oppressively. He bent lower, as if to scan the notes: yet, she knew that
he could not read music. Her fingers faltered, and she looked over her
shoulder nervously.

Her eyes met his, and the playing ceased. Those glittering orbs held her
as if by a magic spell. She was rendered powerless when he put his arm
about her, and touched her lips in a kiss.

Instantly, the spell was broken. She started up, and struck him in the
face--even as Dick had done.

He only laughed--and apologized. The blow was a very slight one: and it
gave him the opportunity of seizing her wrists, and holding her captive
for a few moments, until she confessed that she was sorry. Then she fled
from the room.

"I'm getting on," he murmured, as he dropped back into the armchair, and
lighted another cigarette. "A little more boldness, a rigid
determination, a constant repetition of my assurances that she cannot
escape me, and she will surrender. They all do. It's the law of nature.
The man subdues the woman; and she surrenders at once when her strength
is gone."

CHAPTER XIX

AN UNEXPECTED TELEGRAM

As the days wore on, Dora went through many scenes with her father
concerning Vivian Ormsby. The banker pressed his suit remorselessly, yet
with a consideration for the girl, which did him the greatest credit. The
colonel made no secret of his keen desire for the match; and he informed
his friends, as well as Dora, that he looked upon the thing as settled.
Naturally, the girl's name was coupled with Ormsby's, and, wherever one
was invited, the other always appeared.

Ormsby showed himself at his best during this period. He would have made
no progress at all but for his tactful recognition of the fact that Dora
had loved Dick Swinton, and must be treated tenderly on that account. She
was grateful to him, for he seemed to be the only one who respected poor
Dick's memory. Other people were free in their comments, and remorseless
in their condemnation of the