Tony drew away from his hands, dropped her gaze once more to the rippling white of the water, which was less disconcerting than Alan Massey’s too ardent green eyes.

“You danced with me divinely.  I shall also make you love me divinely even as I promised.  You know it dear one.  You cannot deny it,” the magically beautiful voice which pulled so oddly at her heart strings went on softly, almost in a sort of chant.  “You love me already, my white moonshine girl,” he whispered.  “Tell me you do.”

“Ah but I don’t,” denied Tony.  “I—­I won’t.  I don’t want to love anybody.”

“You cannot help it, dear heart.  Nature made you for loving and being loved.  And it is I that you are going to love.  Mine that you shall be.  Tell me, did you ever feel before as you felt in there when we were dancing?”

“No,” said Tony, her eyes still downcast.

“I knew it.  You are mine, belovedest.  I knew it the moment I saw you.  It is Kismet.  Kiss me.”

“No.”  The girl pulled herself away from him, her face aflame.

“No?  Then so.”  He drew her back to him, and lifted her face gently with his two hands.  He bent over her, his lips close to hers.

“If you kiss me I’ll never dance with you again as long as I live!” she flashed.

He laughed a little mockingly, but he lowered his hands, made no effort to gainsay her will.

“What a horrible threat, you cruel little moonbeam!  But you wouldn’t keep it.  You couldn’t.  You love to dance with me too well.”

“I would,” she protested, the more sharply because she suspected he was right, that she would dance with him again, no matter what he did.  “Any way I shall not dance with you again to-night.  And I shall not stay out here with you any longer.”  She turned to flee, but he put out his hand and held her back.

“Not so fast, my Tony.  They have eyes and ears in there.  If you run away from me and go back with those glorious fires lit in your cheeks and in your eyes they will believe I did kiss you-.”

“Oh!” gasped Tony, indignant but lingering, recognizing the probable truth of his prediction.

“We shall go together after a minute with sedateness, as if we had been studying the stars.  I am wise, my Tony.  Trust me.”

“Very well,” assented Tony.  “How many stars are there in the Pleiades, anyway?” she asked with sudden imps of mirth in her eyes.

Again she felt on safe ground, sure that she had conquered and put a too presuming male in his place.  She had no idea that the laurels had been chiefly not hers at all but Alan Massey’s, who was quite as wise as he boasted.

But she kept her word and danced no more with Alan Massey that night.  She did not dare.  She hated Alan Massey, disapproved of him heartily and knew it would be the easiest thing in the world to fall in love with him, especially if she let herself dance often with him as they had danced to-night.