hostess, came
straight to her. His fine young face was flushed and eager and his eyes
very bright.

Brigit, who was standing talking to Maytopp, felt her heart sink. She
had not yet decided what to say, and instinctively she looked round the
room for Joyselle.

"Brigit--will you dance?" Theo bowed, a trifle lower than Englishmen
bow, and offered her his arm with the very slightest suggestion of
swagger. And somehow he reminded her at that moment more of his father
than he had ever done.

He did not speak as they danced, but she knew that he was fairly
confident of her answer being a favourable one, and she tried to think
that the waltz was never going to end.

But it did end, and she found herself near the window leading to the
balcony where she had talked with his father early in the evening.

"Brigit----" he whispered gently, looking out into the darkness.

And then she heard herself answer: "Yes, Theo. But--ask your father what
he and I have decided."

"Ask papa!"

"Yes. He knows what we are going to do, and he will tell you."

Without a word he left her and she stepped out on the balcony. Leaning
against the parapet she stared down into the empty street, wondering
what Joyselle would say. She had not intended to put the responsibility
of the future on him; she had said the words almost unconsciously, but
they were said. And he, when he came?

Would the horrible courage she had felt in him prevail to the extent of
allowing him to give her to his son? Or would he refuse to settle
things? Or would he, worst of all, announce his departure for America!

He was so many men, each of whom were so strong and so individual, that
she could not know what he would say. Closing her eyes she waited. When
the two men joined her Theo was--laughing. And to her overwrought nerves
the sound seemed an insult.

"Why do you laugh?" she asked sharply.

He started. "Why--I don't remember. Papa said something amusing. Is
anything wrong, my dear?"

"No." Joyselle stood in the light and she could see his face. It looked
set and a little grim, but there was a fierce light in his eyes.

She looked at him defiantly. Yes, she had done well; he should choose.

"_Eh, bien?_" suggested Joyselle suddenly, "why have you sent for me,
Most Beautiful?"

So Theo had not explained!

"Theo is very impatient," she answered in a low voice; "he wants me to
set our wedding-day. And--I have to make up my mind, you know--I thought
as you a