His first word had thrown the poor thing into a flurry.
They began to dance again, and, after a moment, with a gently rising inflection, Delamater murmured, "You heard what I called you ?" He approved of the sachet that Allie used, and he became acutely conscious of the jewels resting in the palm of his left hand.

The girl was rich and she was--different, unusual.

Ever since she had learned to yield herself to his embrace, he had been conscious of her strong physical attraction, and now it got the better of him.

"You don't care ?" he said, with his lips close to her ear.
"Humph! I'm not caring for anything or anybody to-day." "Somebody has hurt my little girl." Allie threw back her head and stared at him with quick suspicion.

"Your little girl ?" she repeated.
It is the lot of any man in the heat of his desire to make mistakes, and Delamater erred gravely at this moment.