"I wanted to ask you--you know I wanted to ask you!"

"Oh, yes, you did!" replied the visiting girl ironically.

"I did!" protested Raymond.

"Well, why didn't you then?"

"I'd already asked somebody else. I couldn't!"

And then the visiting girl laughed strangely. Missy knew she knew
with whom Raymond had danced that first dance. Why did she laugh?
And Raymond--oh, oh! She had seemed to grow rooted to the ground,
unable to get away; her heart, her breathing, seemed to petrify too;
they hurt her. Why had Raymond danced with her if he didn't want to?
And why, why did that girl laugh? She suddenly felt that she must
let them know that she heard them, that she must ask why! And, in
order not to exclaim the question against her will, she covered her
mouth with both hands, and crept silently away from the rose arbour.

Without any definite purpose, borne along by an inner whirlwind of
suppressed sobs and utter despair, Missy finally found herself
nearer the entrance gate, Fortunately there was nobody to see her;
everyone--except those two--was back up there in the glare and
noise, laughing and dancing. Laughing and dancing--oh, oh! What ages
ago it seemed when she too had laughed and danced!

Oh, why hadn't she gone home with Mrs. Allen and Kitty before her
silly pleasure had turned to anguish? But, of course, that was what