would naturally turn--that, above all others, he would select her for
his wife; yet he did not evince the least idea of so doing. Why was it?

Twice that night when he had so frankly told her his ideas about women,
she had been most careful, most reserved.

"If he likes reserve and indifference," she said to herself, "he shall
have plenty of it." Yet it was at the same time so mixed with kindness,
with thoughtful consideration for him, that the wonder was he did not
succumb. "I must find out," she said to herself, "whether he does really
care for me." How to do so she did not quite know--but woman's wits are
proverbially keen.

The more she saw of him the better she liked him--his single-mindedness,
his chivalry, his faith in women and his respect for them, were greater
than she had seen in any other, and she loved him for these qualities.
The more she contrasted him with others, the greater, deeper, and wider
grew her love. It must be that in time he should care for her.

The Duchess of Aytoun gave a grand ball, to which, as belle of the
season, Philippa was invited.

"Shall you go?" she asked of Lord Arleigh.

"I have hardly decided," he replied.

"Do go, Norman; I like waltzing, but I do not care to waltz with every
one. Do go, that I may dance with you."

"You do not mind waltzing with me, then?" he said.