like dancing?"

The coffee, sending up a fragrant steam, was too hot to drink; the
saxophones sounded an insinuating invitation.

"Do let's--I'm dying to!"

As they mingled with the circling couples on the glassy floor, Roger
gave her hand a faint pressure.

"I said you were," he told her.

"Said I was what?"

"A wonderful dancer. The first time I saw you."

"No--did you?" she replied delightedly and returned the pressure
spontaneously. "I'm glad. I'd far rather you praised my dancing than
my character."

"I don't know anything about your character," he disclaimed, laughing.

He was enjoying himself immensely. Of all the girls he knew, it struck
him that not one would have fitted in so perfectly with his mood as did
this little Canadian girl who worked hard for her living. Why was it?
He had nothing to say against his own friends, jolly girls for the most
part, excellent at games and only a little spoilt by having always had
money--yet certainly they lacked the freshness which was so large a
part of this particular girl's attraction for him. She was capable and
intelligent, too, without sacrificing one whit of her femininity--he
was a simple enough male to remark on this; for that matter, he
reflected with pride, there was not a woman in the room who was
smarter. She had a poise and grace of movement that were a delight to
the eye, and she was _soignee_ to the finger-tips. A thoroughbred, he
summed her up, and felt pleased with his judgment.

When presently they were joined by his friends, Graham and Marjory
Kent, he was not particularly elated.

"I hope you don't curse us for barging in like this," Miss Kent
apologised, "but my brother is fed to the teeth with me and is going to
try and cadge a dance or two off you, Miss Rowe, if you'll be good to
him."

She was about twenty-six, tall and gypsy-like, her black hair in a bang
and her thin brown arms jingling with bangles. Esther liked her, she
was straightforward and jolly. The brother was younger and very shy,
yet plainly one of those timid souls whose tenacity of purpose will
carry them through agonies of embarrassment to a desired end. The end
in this case was evidently Esther. His black eyes shone with frank
admiration, even while he blushed a dusky red to the roots of his
immaculate hair.

"May I have this dance?" he murmured almost at once.

She smiled and rose to join him. At the same moment she caught a
certain glint in the eye of