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“You put it in the past tense.”

“Yes, even that—that sense of physical attraction is gone now.” She disengaged herself from the arm that held her and rose. “Please, please don’t let us ever speak of it again. During the last few weeks I’ve learnt to like you—better, far better—than when you attracted me more in another way.”

“That’s rather a poor consolation for me, isn’t it?”

“It’s not meant as consolation. I only want you to understand that I don’t like hurting you now. I shouldn’t have minded before.”

“That at least gives me some ground for hope.”

“No, no!” she said with pitiful earnestness. “Oh, will nothing ever make you realize that it’s quite impossible—what you ask?”

“Nothing, my dear, except your marriage to another man.”

She had no reply to make to that, but she moved forward towards the lighted hall, and he walked beside her. In the doorway they came face to face with Stephanie and Rodney coming out to resume the lesson. But Ann danced no more that evening. She sat on in the drawing-room with Mrs. Ford and Rhoda, until Waring had taken his departure. Then she rose to go.

“I’ll get out the car and run you home,” said Mrs. Hemingway.

“You’ll do no such thing,” returned Ann firmly. “It’s less than a mile, and I’d like the walk. I don’t get nearly enough exercise, and it’s quite fine now.”

“You can’t go alone,” objected Mrs. Ford.

“I must be off too,” said Marsh. He and Stephanie had come in from the veranda. “I can see Miss Merrill safely into town. I’m walking.”