past. It was as he had suspected; she had the gift of perfect movement.

And Molly, as she danced past, glanced towards the tall, loose figure,
dignified with all its carelessness and with some curious trick of
distinction and indifference in its bearing, and twice she caught tired
eyes looking very earnestly at her.

"Good Heavens! I was talking of Rose to that girl, and of my efforts to
get at her mother's money, and I never speak of either to mortal man.
What made me do it?"

Slowly he turned away and left the ballroom and the house, declining
with a wave of the hand various appeals to stay, and found himself in
the street.

"Sympathies and affinities be hanged!" He said it aloud. "She isn't even
really beautiful, and I'll be hanged, too, if I'll talk to her any
more."

But, alack for Molly, he did talk to her on almost every occasion on
which they met. It was from no conscious lack of royalty to Rose; it was
largely because he was so full of her and her affairs that he would in
an assembly of indifferent people drift towards one who was in any way
connected with those affairs. Then one word or two, the merest "how d'ye
do?" seemed to develop instantly into talk, and shortly the talk turned
to intimate things. And for him Molly was always at her best. Many
people did not like her, yet admired her, and admitted her into their
houses half unwillingly. Her speech was not often kindly, and there was
an element of defiance even in her quietness, for her unmistakable
social ease was distinctly negative. Molly was rich and dressed well,