So many people had been invited to the Cavendish ball that there was
scarce room to dance. Myra caught sight of Don Carlos several times,
and her heart beat a trifle fast when at last she saw him making his
way through the crowd towards her during an interval.

"May I have the pleasure and honour of dancing the next with you, Miss
Rostrevor?" he inquired, with his usual courtly bow. "The floor is
becoming less crowded now the news has gone round that supper is being
served."

Myra's first impulse was to snub him, but she refrained, rose without a
word as the music re-started, and they glided round together to the
lilting refrain of the band. Both were extremely graceful and
accomplished dancers, and several other couples ceased dancing to watch
them, giving them the centre of the floor.

"Are you afraid to look at me, cara mia?" whispered Don Carlos, after a
few minutes. "I want to look deep into your dear blue eyes and try to
read what is in your heart."

"I am afraid the result would be a shock to your overweening vanity,
Don Carlos," responded Myra coldly, still avoiding his eyes. "I am
very angry with you, and I am surprised you should have had the
audacity to ask me to dance with you before even attempting to offer
any apology for your outrageous behaviour of this afternoon."