She had an aunt in Montreal who sent her wonderful things to wear; she was reported to have had a sad love affair--nobody knew just what, but its very mystery allured.

Rilla felt that Irene's compliments crowned her evening.

She ran gaily back to the pavilion and lingered for a moment in the glow of the lanterns at the entrance looking at the dancers.

A momentary break in the whirling throng gave her a glimpse of Kenneth Ford standing at the other side.
Rilla's heart skipped a beat--or, if that be a physiological impossibility, she thought it did.

So he was here, after all.