"Got his note, didn't you?"

"Yes, I----"

"Here we are," said Carter. "Miss Archibald, I would like to present Mr.
Grosvenor."

Somebody bowed in front of me, and then straightened up and looked down
at me. IT WAS THE MAN OF THE PICTURE, LITTLE MUSTACHE AND ALL. My mouth
went perfectly dry.

It is all very well to talk about Romance and Love, and all that sort
of thing. But I have concluded that amorus experiences are not always
agreeable. And I have discovered something else. The moment anybody is
crazy about me I begin to hate him. It is curious, but I am like that. I
only care as long as they, or he, is far away. And the moment I touched
H's white kid glove, I knew I loathed him.

"Now go to it, you to," Carter said in cautious tone. "Don't be
conspicuous. That's all."

And he left us.

"Suppose we dance this. Shall we?" said H. And the next moment we were
gliding off. He danced very well. I will say that. But at the time I was
too much occupied with hateing him to care about dancing, or anything.
But I was compelled by my pride to see things through. We are a very
proud Familey and never show our troubles, though our hearts be torn
with anguish.