After all," with a half smile, sadder than most sad smiles because of the youth and sweetness of it, "I do not blame you.

I _am_ a trouble, I suppose, and all troubles are hateful.
I"-- holding out her hand--"shall take your advice, I think, and go to bed." "It was bad advice," says Curzon, taking the hand and holding it.
"Stay up, enjoy yourself, dance----" "Oh! I am not dancing," says she as if offended.
"Why not ?" eagerly.

"Better dance than sleep at your age.

You--you mistook me.

Why go so soon ?" She looks at him with a little whimsical expression.
"I shall not know you _at all_, presently," says she.