always loving you, no matter what's to pay."

"I--" she began, but was interrupted by José, who bowed low before her.

"Señorita," grandiosely, "the ladies and your father beg that, unworthy
as I am to dance on the same floor as you, that yet, as a compliment to
Mr. Flick, we go through some of the Spanish dances together."

Pearl assented and half rose, but Flick laid a detaining hand on her
sleeve. "She will in a minute," he said. "Run along now, José, me and
Miss Gallito's got something to talk over." He bent close to her again.
"Pearl," there was the faintest shake in his voice, "what are you going
to tell me, now?"

"Oh, Bob," the regret was in her voice now, "I wish, I wish you didn't
feel that way. I love you more than 'most anybody in the world--but not
that way. And--and I don't want to lose your love for me. I like to know
it's there. I sort of lean up against it."

He waited a moment or two before answering her, and then his voice was
as steady as ever. "You can always come back to my love for you. The
stars can fall out of the sky and the mountains slide down, but my love
for you can't change, Pearl. It's fixed and steady and forever."

"Dear old Bob," she touched his cheek as she passed him with a light
caress and went on into the room beyond to get her dancing slippers.

It was later that evening that José began his unceasing importunities to
see Pearl dance in the town hall. A stern and surprised veto of this
plan was his immediate answer. But José was the most convincing and