And now,
after a third period of waiting, the time came for their last dance. He
went for it as soon as the number preceding was over; he wanted, not
only to miss none of it, but he hungered to snatch all the prelude he
could. The conventional-looking young personage she had been dancing
with regarded the approaching Mr. Heatherbloom rather resentfully, but
he moved straight as an arrow for her. At once she stepped toward him,
and he soon found himself walking with her across the smooth shining
floor, on into the great conservatory. Here were soft shadows and
wondrous perfumes. Mr. Heatherbloom breathed deeply.
"But a few days more, and we're en route for home." It was the girl who
spoke first--lightly, gaily--though there was a thrill in her tones.
He started and did not answer at once. "That will be great, won't it?"
His voice, too, was light, but it did not seem so spontaneously glad as
her own.
"You _are_ pleased, aren't you?" she said suddenly.
"Pleased? Of course!"
A brief period of inexplicable constraint! He looked at one of her hands
resting on the edge of a great vase--at a flower she held in her
fingers.
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