Alpha Book

"I don't know how I happened to do it," he muttered, still abashed by
his plight.
"We rekindled the fire for your benefit," she said; "you had better use
it before you retire." And she seated herself in the arm-chair,
stretching out her ungloved hands to the blaze--smooth, innocent hands,
so soft, so amazingly fresh and white.
He moved a step forward into the warmth, stood a moment, then reached
forward for a chair and drew it up beside hers.
"Do you mean to say you are not sleepy?" he asked.
"I? No, not in the least. I will be to-morrow, though."
"Did you have a good time?"
"Yes--rather."
"Wasn't it gay?"
"Gay? Oh, very."
Her replies were unusually short--almost preoccupied. She was generally
more communicative.
"You danced a lot, I dare say," he ventured.
"Yes--a lot," studying the floor.
"Decent partners?"
"Oh, yes."
"Who was there?"
She looked up at him. "_You_ were not there," she said, smiling.
"No; I cut it. But I did not know you were going; you said nothing about
it.


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