air because she prefers
another? No, I shan't," says Ronayne, with sudden animation. "I shall
see it out with her. If she chooses to cancel this dance well and good,
but I shall certainly remind her she promised it to me."

"Rash boy!" says Kelly, with a sigh. "As you refuse to hearken to the
voice of common sense, and afflict yourself with a megrim, I leave you
to your fate."

So saying, he turns aside, and, having gone a step or two, finds himself
face to face with Miss Beresford.

"This dance is ours," he says, mendaciously, knowing well this is the
first time they have met this evening.

Monica laughs: to be angry with so sad a visaged man as Owen Kelly would
be a cruelty.

"I am glad of it," she says, "because I do not want to dance at all; and
I think you will not mind sitting with me and talking to me for a little
while."

"You remember me then?" he says, shifting his glass from one eye to the
other, and telling himself she is as pretty as she is wise.

"I think so," shyly, yet with a merry glance; "you are that Master
O'Kelly, of Kelly Grove, county Antrim, who is the bright and shining
light of the Junior Bar."

"You do indeed know me," returns he, mildly.

"'Thy modesty's a candle to thy merit,'" quotes she, wickedly, in a low
tone.

At this he smiles sadly (a luxury he rarely permits himself), and,
taking up her hand, lays it on his arm.

"Come," he says, "I will sit with you, and talk with you, when, and
where, and for as long as you like. The longer the greater bliss for me.
The spaciousness of these halls, fair madam, as doubtless you have
perceived, gives wide scope for choice of seats. In which secluded bower
will it please you to efface yourself?"

Monica glances from one small room to the landing-place, and from the
landing-place to the other small room beyond, and naturally hesitates.

"There is another stairs besides the one we ascended," says Mr. Kelly.
"I saw it when first I came: would _you_ like to see it too?"

"I should indeed," says Monica, grateful for the hint, and, going with
him, suddenly becomes aware of a staircase, leading goodness knows
whither, upon the third step of which she seats herself, after a rapid
glance around and upwards that tells her nothing, so mysterious are the
workings of a barracks.

Mr. Kelly seats himself beside her.

"I suppose it is my mission to amuse you," he says, calmly, "as I dare
not make love to you."

"Why not?" says Monica, quite as