He's a beast, and I loathe the thought of having danced with him--there!--I'm sorry!" She held out her hand.
Buntingford was supremely touched, and could not for the moment find a jest wherewith to disguise it.
"Thank you!" he said quietly, at last.

"Thank you, Helena.

That was very nice of you." And with a sudden movement he stooped and kissed the wet and rather quivering hand he held.

At the same moment, the searchlight which had been travelling about the pond, lighting up one boat after another to the amusement of the persons in them, and of those watching from the shore, again caught the boat in which sat Buntingford and Helena.

Both figures stood sharply out.